


Dreams and Nightmares: Part One

by Arcane_Light



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-24 14:06:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 26,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2584100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcane_Light/pseuds/Arcane_Light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As children, Loki and Sigyn were inseparable. Now, after so many years, Sigyn has returned to Asgard's halls once more to study under the Queen Mother's eye, but much has changed in the time they were apart. Sigyn's gifts as a seer have caused her nights of horrific visions and Loki seems to be losing more of himself each day. And now, after a fleeting moment of happiness, a dark future looms near, one that threatens to tear apart any chance they have at survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of many interpretations I have for the complicated relationship between Loki and Sigyn. It takes place pre-Marvel films and then moves to incorporate the Marvel Universe, showing many of the original interactions between characters, including the developing friendship between Loki and Sigyn. I realize that many of my details do not match with Norse legend or Marvel plots, but it is a story for pure selfish enjoyment only and I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. 
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> I always appreciate comments! Even the smallest is cherished!

Twinkling sparkles of golden light floated gently down from the afternoon sky, dancing in the rays of the great setting sun as Sigyn raced through the gardens. Quickly, she dashed behind a large oak tree, her little chest frantically heaving with each hushed breath. She could feel the bark poking through her dress and tickling the skin of her back and she pressed her fingertips into the soft wood. Peeking around the trunk, Sigyn eyed the garden with suspicion. The picturesque pond lay unscathed, not a ripple to break the mirror-like surface, and not a leaf seemed to rustle out of character. Perhaps she had finally lost him. 

Slowly, she crept out from her hiding spot, careful to avoid the treacherous twig that would have crunched beneath her foot. Yes, she had finally lost him. Gleefully gloating in her masterful success, Sigyn wiped the leaves and dirt from her skirts with a satisfying swipe and prepared to head back inside for dinner. It was then that she spotted the faint rippling in the pond’s smooth surface. Before she had a chance to react he was on her, toppling her to the ground where she preceded to swallow a mouthful of wildflowers. 

Sigyn kicked and fussed, throwing her weight against him until she threw him back onto his rump. He landed with a thud and rolled to his back, his feet swinging into the air above him. She worried she had pushed him too hard, but her guilt was quickly replaced with tantrum when she heard his delighted laughter rising up from the grass.

“Loki, you twit!” she hollered, throwing a handful of grass at him. The young boy rolled to his knees, wiping the tears from his eyes as he laughed.

“Oh, you should have seen your face!” he cried, shaking his head. “I wish I could have preserved it forever!”

“The only face you’ll be seeing is mine,” Sigyn loomed toward him, raising a hand, “when I’m giving you a good whipping!” She swung at him with all her might, but Loki tumbled out of the way, letting her flop face first into the grass once more. This time when he laughed, Sigyn couldn't help but laugh, too. She laughed so hard she began to clutch her stomach from the soreness. Even her cheeks hurt from smiling. 

“How did you even find me?” she finally asked as she regained her breath. Loki gave her a devilish smile.

“You should learn to control your magic better,” he smirked. Sigyn gave herself a solid smack to the forehead.

“It’s like blasted golden spotlights!” she chuckled. “I might as well have painted you a sign.” 

“More like golden snow,” Loki smiled at her, brushing the grass from his hair. “I wish I could make that,” his expression turned sour. “Mine’s all sharpness and edges.” 

“Yours is wonderful!” Sigyn assured him, reaching to touch his soft green sleeve. “Like flashes of light glinting off the sea.” Suddenly, she realized her position and quickly removed herself, using her mess of blonde curls to hide the flush on her cheeks. Loki hadn’t seemed to mind, though he wore a similar shade of red. He only smiled.

“Thank you,” he told her, blue eyes flashing. “I’m glad you like it.”

They sat quietly for a moment, listening to the gentle sounds of the garden. Birds high in the bows, leaves rustling in the breeze, even the faint murmur of the tiny waterfall at the pond’s edge. Sigyn liked these quiet moments they shared the best. Just enjoying the silence, a mutual contentment. It was in moments like these that she wished the rest of Asgard could see the younger prince. He was nothing the troublesome prankster they all thought him to be. Yes, he enjoyed a good trick every now and again, but the Loki of these moments was far more serene, content to let the winds and sun wash over his face, as if the outside world of harsh looks and cutting comments no longer existed.  
But then it was gone.

“Young Prince,” the guard called. “The King calls for you.”

Loki’s serenity was gone, in its place a strange sense of disappointment, but it was soon gone, too. His sharp smirk returned and smiled at her once more.

“Lessons, I’m sure,” he said as he rose to his feet. He offered his hand and Sigyn hoisted herself up. Standing side by side, Sigyn could see that he might soon pass her in height. After so many years of teasing, she was sure Loki would be relieved that his brother would no longer have such fodder against him. “Let us see if Thor can answer more than one question correctly today,” Loki joked and Sigyn muffled a snicker. She waved at him as the guard escorted him to the royal wing, his face slowly disappearing in the distance behind each passing column.


	2. Chapter 2

It was not that Loki did not enjoy his daily lessons. In fact, the world outside Asgard’s borders fascinated him beyond comprehension. He would not have regretted being hurried off to his father’s study at all if not for the sight of Sigyn staying behind in the garden as he was whisked away. He enjoyed his time with his father and brother, but Sigyn was such an enjoyable break from Thor’s constant roughhousing and shouting. 

“No, Thor,” Odin corrected the elder prince. “Ægir is the sea itself in physical form. A sea giant. Not the god of the seas. Loki?”

“Njord, father,” Loki responded. “God of the seas and a god of the Vanir. Praised for his skills in sailing and fishing.”

“Good,” Odin replied. “And his relations?”

“Father of Freyr and Freya, grandfather to Gersemi and Hnossa and…” Loki rattled off the numerous offspring of the great old sea god until he arrived at the youngest, “… and Sigyn.” Odin nodded his head in confirmation.

“Correct.” 

As his father continued to hammer Thor with additional quizzes, Loki allowed his mind to wander. Sigyn had only been staying at the palace temporarily while her mother visited Asgard, seeing to some political business between the old Vanir and the Æsir. It had been a wonderful few months. They spent hours playing together each day, racing through the gardens, scouring through the library, scurrying about the stables. It would be near torture to return to playing with his brother and his friends. 

“No, Thor,” Odin shook his head. “That wasn’t even close. Loki?”

“Muspelheim, father.” Perhaps she would return again in the spring when her mother continued her yearly tour of admiration. He supposed he should be grateful. If it weren’t for Freya’s insufferable vanity and need for attention, Sigyn would likely never get to visit. The only other person she could travel with was her grandfather and the old sea god rarely left his coastal manor in Vanaheim these days. 

The week ended far too quickly. Soon enough, Loki was standing in the palace courtyard surrounded by carriages and luggage. Thor and his friends were there, bidding Sigyn farewell. She and Sif, in particular, shared an energized hug, lifting each other and swinging themselves about until they nearly fell from the laughter. It was no surprise to Loki that Sigyn was able to charm the young Sif. She had charmed each of his brother’s overbearing friends from the first moment she stepped in the palace those many years ago. She had been so tiny then, but so had Loki. In all honestly, they weren’t much older now, but at least he had finally grown taller than her. 

Finally, Sigyn was free of Thor and his band of merry men, leaving Loki the opportunity to say his goodbye. He stood for a long while, the silence beginning to gnaw at his reserve. 

What did he say? How long would she be gone? He was sure his goodbye would depend on the situation, but there were so many possibilities.

“I had a lot of fun playing with you, Prince Loki,” Sigyn broke the silence. He was startled to hear her address him so formally, but, as formal as she sounded, he could still see an awkward nervousness in her form. She kept tucking a curl of blonde hair behind her ear, despite it being clearly secured. It was making him nervous, now. 

“Yes,” he stuttered. “It was very fun.” Sigyn was determined to memorize the lines of her shoes, avoiding his gaze at all costs. Loki began to worry that she no longer wanted to talk to him or see him at all. “I hope you can visit again, soon,” he finally spat out. This seemed to grab her attention and her face lit up with a wide smile. 

“I’d like that very much!” she exclaimed, her cheeks flushed bright red. “Perhaps you could talk to your father?” 

“Absolutely,” he smiled, his heart pounding in his ears. “Would you talk to your mother?” Sigyn’s brow furrowed. 

“Perhaps I’ll ask grandfather instead,” she mumbled, apparently deep in thought. 

“I’m sure he’ll agree to it,” he assured her and she seemed to cheer up. Their goodbyes were rushed along as Freya announced their departure with a flourish of her cloak. The woman barely seemed to check if her daughter was boarding the carriage with her, merely waving at her crowd of admirers before vanishing into the coach. 

Loki stood in the courtyard as long as he could, watching until the carriage disappeared beyond the towers and rooflines of the great city. For a moment, he thought he saw a golden snow falling in the sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. 
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	3. Chapter 3

Loki longed for the days when he and his brother were only subject to tests of the mind. They might not have been much of a challenge, but they were far more enjoyable than the tedious torture that was physical training with Thor. With each swing of his arm, Thor threw every ounce of his monstrous strength against his younger brother. It was as if his existence depended on standing victorious at the end of every sparring match, no matter the opponent. Loki held his own well enough, frequently confusing Thor with mirages and flashes of light, but he was far more adept at sideline warfare than brute force. 

This particular match ended with Thor’s victory, as per usual, but Loki never took much stake in the outcomes. Thor depended on the victories for his own confidence; Loki had little interest in such meaningless displays. His stowed away his daggers, wrapping them tightly in his black leather satchel before placing them on the weapons table. Thor bid him a match well-fought before joining Sif and the Warriors Three for refreshments. Loki declined Thor’s offer, insisting he needed to clean himself after the beating he’d been dealt. This made Thor laugh and he slammed a solid pat on Loki’s back before lumbering away. 

As he floated through the palace halls, Loki listened to the gossips and frittering of the servants and maids. They were all quite excited about something, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was that had them all flustered. Perhaps one of the maids had spotted Thor shirtless in the lake, cleaning off after his sparring match with Loki. He knew his brother frequented the watering hole after such exercises, so he merely assumed that the maids were fawning and tuned out their voices.

The noise and ruckus of the palace faded away as he slid into the sanctuary of his room. Cool, comforting silence wrapped around him as he pulled off his boots and belt. He laid his tunic over the back of his writing chair and groaned at the sight of his dried out inkwell. He’d forgotten to close it again and now the menial liquid inside was crusted and worthless. Swooping over to his cupboards Loki threw open the doors and began digging for a new well. Somewhere in this mess of books and parchment was a fresh inkwell, he always kept spares, but his hand stopped short at the sight of a small lavender-bound book. 

Gingerly, Loki pulled it from the chaos. Soft, smooth suede wrapped around silky cream pages, he let it rest in his palm, allowing gravity to pull the covers back to the natural divider. Once the pages finally settled, Loki gazed down on a tiny orange flower pressed between the delicate writing. Once, it had been lovely and lively with small round petals soft like velvet. Now, it was still lovely, but with a twinge of loneliness. She had always been good at orange. Loki shook his head and quickly placed the book back into the mountain of his cupboard, careful not to disrupt the precious cargo tucked inside. 

He allowed himself the fleeting pleasure of a longer bath, sitting in the warm water as it soothed his aches and bruises. It was a comforting silence, free of the chaos and trivialities of the palace. In these moments he could let his mind empty. Yet, somehow, it always wandered without his permission. He was forced from his peaceful silence by his own mind, ripped from the warmth of the bath because he couldn't control his own thoughts. 

Judging by the temperature of the bath, Loki had stayed locked in his chambers for several hours. By now, dinner would be ready and he knew Thor would devour every lemon cake in sight if he didn't get there soon. He hastily threw on his clothes, pulling on his boots as he tripped out the door, but once he entered the hallway he was fully composed, not a hair out of place. He took pride in his appearance. He might not have had Thor’s golden mane or fearsome muscles, but at least he could look distinguished. 

The palace had not seemed to calm itself in his absence. Servants and maids and messengers rushed in every direction carrying platters and linens and goblets. Loki rolled his eyes. It was only dinner. They needn't worry themselves. Still, he listened. There was no hush to their tones as they rattled and shouted about the current news. Some noblewoman was visiting the palace quite unexpectedly and the servants were rushing to prepare. So it was only a visitor. The palace had scores of them every day. It was no matter to Loki and he made his way to the banquet hall.

Before he could even turn the corner, Loki was met with his brother’s shouting face.

“There you are, brother!” he roared, grabbing Loki by the shoulders and yanking him forward.

“Thor, please,” Loki winced, “my back.”

“Oh relax, brother!” Thor replied with a laugh. “Today’s lesson was no tougher than any other. You ought to toughen that skin of yours.” 

“Tough skin in exchange for a fractured spine,” Loki choked as Thor squeezed tighter. 

“I’m sure you’ll be glad for the fractured spine once I tell you the good news!” At this, Loki grew suspicious. His brother had a distinctly different definition of good news compared  
to Loki and he remained silent as Sif and the Warriors Three came around the corner at the far end of the hallway. 

“Brother,” Loki sighed, “I’m sure that whatever wonderful surprise you have for me can wait until after I've had a scrap to eat. I am a bit famished, as it would happen -”

“Oh no, brother!” Thor grabbed him before he could finish his escape into the banquet hall. “This surprise you will want to see now.” Loki silently cursed his oaf of a brother and moaned at the sight of Sif and the Warriors Three growing near. 

“Please, brother,” Loki insisted, less than eager to be submitted to their condescending jokes, “I’d rather not.”

“Rather not what?” came a soft voice. Immediately Loki froze and Thor sprouted a dumbly satisfied grin as he stepped back, watching Loki slowly turn to face the newcomers. 

A gorgeous mess of deep auburn gold curls framed a gentle, round, freckled face and gray-blue eyes peered out from behind creamy skin. Smooth lengths of magenta fabric draped elegantly around a curved frame and a golden flowered circlet balanced delicately atop her head. 

“Hello, Loki,” Sigyn smiled. He felt as though his body were pinned to the spot, his feet like boulders against the marble floor, but in a matter of seconds he felt as though he could fly, shoot through the palace ceiling and never come down. 

“Sigyn,” his voice was barely a whisper.

“Wouldn't you know,” Fandral scoffed. “All it takes to still that silver tongue is a bit of gold.” In an instant, Loki realized his position and it took nothing for him to return to his naturally composed and reserved stature. 

“If only it were so easy, Fandral,” Loki replied, “you’d have silenced me with that winning humor years ago.”

“Always the charmer, Loki,” the swordsman said with a flourish of his hand before disappearing through the banquet hall doors. “Come along, friends!” he called. “Let us leave the children to their reunion. We've more pressing matters!” There came a chorus of high shrills from the banquet hall and Volstagg eagerly dashed after him, followed slowly by the ever-silent Hogun. Sif was the last to trail along, giving Sigyn two more tight hugs before running off into the hall. Thor gave Loki one final slap on the back before chasing after his friends. 

He was unprepared to be alone with her so soon. He had nothing prepared, no eloquent or fine phrase with which to reintroduce himself into her life, no well-versed quip or charming flattery. He cursed his own ridiculousness, how easily he was uprooted by such a simple being. She was the same girl as before, the same tangle of curls, the same round cheeks. He should not be left so speechless. 

But it was Sigyn. How long it had been since they’d last spoken. Over the years her letters had become more and more scarce. When she had first left in the morning of their childhood, the letters came almost every week, but soon they both fell victim to studies and responsibility. She still wrote, but the contacts were short and rare. Loki had not received a letter from Sigyn in years it seemed, but then he had not sent her a letter either. Suddenly, he felt washed with guilt. 

“It is good to see you, Loki,” Sigyn smiled, her round cheeks flushed a faint pink. Any nerves melted away. 

“It is good to see you, Sigyn,” he replied with a smile. “The granddaughter of the sea in Asgard’s glittering halls once more.”

“And there’s the charm,” she chuckled. “All guise and fluff.” 

“I think it’s more than just fluff,” he smirked. “Perhaps a better descriptor would be…poetry.”

“Poetry!” Sigyn exclaimed with a laugh, “I can see the years have not tempered your confidence.”

“I merely fish for a compliment from one of the finest wordsmiths in existence,” Loki explained. “A selfish endeavor, I must admit.”

“Not selfish at all,” Sigyn blushed. “A wonderful compliment.” 

“Why are you here?” Loki immediately regretted his word choice. “No!” he backtracked. “It’s not that I’m not pleased that you’re here, it’s just that…well…um…” He could feel himself tripping over his words, but Sigyn’s smile put him at ease. 

“There is no insult,” she told him. “I’m here at the Allfather’s request.”

Loki was surprised, “Odin?”

“Yes,” she explained. “Or rather, at the Queen Mother’s request.” 

“My mother?” This seemed a more reasonable explanation to him. It was then that the situation clicked like the fastening of a stubborn saddle cinch. “She has called upon you for training?” It was more than expected; Sigyn had long displayed skill in the areas of magic and healing. As a child, he remembered his mother teaching a tiny Sigyn how to transform a small leaf into a gold butterfly. 

“There is no finer seer in all the nine realms,” Sigyn replied. “My grandfather and the Allfather agreed that it was time the palace trained another seer in the arts of the royal house. I see it as an honor of the highest regard to perform my tutelage under the Queen Mother.” 

“She was always very fond of you,” Loki said, though he worried he may have overstepped a boundary. “Then again, the children who visited the palace were never as naturally gifted as you. It would only make sense for my mother to pass her skills to such a promising student.” Sigyn smiled, but her face suddenly turned mischievous as she motioned him closer. 

“Perhaps,” she whispered secretively, “she would not have had to seek out another student had her original pupil not used his talents to violate poor Sif’s precious hair.” Loki attempted futilely to muffle his laughter, but memories of creeping upon Sif and slashing her revered golden hair with a blade of green magic only encouraged his merriment. Sigyn joined him and soon they were buckled over in the palace hall busting with laughter, filling the rafters with desperate gasps for breath. Wiping a tear from her glittering eyes, Sigyn chuckled, “At least you repaired it.”

“More or less,” Loki reminded her, thinking of Sif’s long black tresses. 

“Honestly, I think it humbled her a bit,” Sigyn brushed the front of her dress smooth. “She was always too boastful. Needed a kick, so to say.” 

“Regardless of the past,” Loki faced her, “I hope any ill-will of Sif’s will not force her to keep you all to herself. I am glad that you are here.” Sigyn blushed. 

“There are the festivities tomorrow,” she said. Loki must have looked idiotic. 

“Festivities?” 

“My mother,” Sigyn pursed her lips, “always needs to make a show when she arrives. The Allfather is kind enough to indulge her.” Images of a golden haired women with sinful curves flashed across his mind.

“Ah yes,” he nodded. “I should have expected.”

“But it will be quite enjoyable,” Sigyn’s face lit up and Loki couldn't help but lighten. “Perhaps I will see you there?” 

“Of course,” he assured her. “I would feel a traitor if I left you to the hands of Thor and his band of merry men for the entire night.”

“What a selfless man,” she snickered, but there was a lacing of sincerity to her voice. “You are truly a knight in shining armor.” Loki flustered at the warmth rising to his face. In an instant, the hall was filled with guests and servants and Sigyn was whisked away with the crowd, waving at him from behind her mother’s swinging locks. For a moment, he was back in the courtyard, watching as Sigyn disappeared in the rolling carriage, but a scrawny boy he was no longer. With a fierce fire to his step, Loki wove through the crowd and chased after her, following the trail of golden snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. 
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	4. Chapter 4

If there was any mothering bone in Freya’s beautiful body, it certainly manifested itself in odd manners. Never had her mother read her a bedtime story. Not once had she braided Sigyn’s hair. The idea of her mother teaching her to play the harp was almost obscene. All these memories were of her sisters and cousins, never of the blindingly beautiful goddess of love, so Sigyn was nearly floored when her mother began offering her glorious dresses and trips to the seamstress. She had been young at the time, only a child, but the goddess of beauty had made sure that her youngest daughter was never without fine gowns. 

This generous habit of hers made Sigyn far more comfortable attending important events, particularly her mother’s obsession with ball gowns, for she was never made to feel that she didn’t belong. At least not in her dressing. The most magnificent gowns in the universe could not free Sigyn of her wallflower nature. She was more than adept at making nice with the numerous nobles, talking fashion and gossip with the best of the highborn ladies, but she herself was far from a party-goer. Sigyn often found herself wandering away from the glaring lights and boisterous voices of the ballrooms in favor of the quiet serenity of the gardens or deserted hallways. 

Only, this party was one she could not avoid. As it was in her mother’s honor, Sigyn would be noticed if she slipped away. So instead, she donned one of her favorite pieces, a blush gown whose fabric gently faded into a deep magenta. The shoulders were rimmed with flaxen feathers, the same ones that adorned the crown on her head, and a delicate Yggdrasil tree wove its way up the bust. Her mother complained that it was too simple, the color too faded, the fabric too loose, but Sigyn was allowed her own choices. Her mother only required that she look presentable. 

Normally, Sigyn would disappear into the great Asgardian palace library, vanish between the massive golden doors and hide away from the clamorous ballroom, but as she passed by the doors and saw the glorious rows upon rows of books she could only move onward, leaving a heaven in the dark. The halls were teeming with party guests, women pining over her mother’s beauty and men pining over more. She did not doubt that her mother would invite more than one of them to her chamber that evening. For Sigyn, the night after the party would be filled with the pages of an ancient seer grimoire she had retrieved from the library earlier that day. She grew giddy at the thought. 

The guards at the doors bowed as Sigyn entered the great domed ballroom, glass ceiling reaching far overhead to reveal a night sky of glittering stars and sweeping galaxies. All around were the finest of Asgard and all the nine realms: the dwarven lords with their massive plated armor, the youthful elves of Alfheim, and all the Aesir lords and ladies decked head to toe in their festive finest. Sigyn recognized many of the faces, some distant relatives, others old friends of her grandfather. Each of them approached Sigyn and asked about the old sea god’s health, and she assured each one that her grandfather was well as ever, spending most of his days on the coast. They were pleasant to the young granddaughter of the sea, but were soon drawn away by the allure of other more interesting guests. 

Sigyn did not mind it. She preferred the fluidity of moving throughout the crowd unattached. It allowed her the freedom to listen and watch, catching moments of reunion and repulsion alike as she made her way through the great ballroom. She finally spotted them near the front of the room, camped around a massive wooden table laden with gluttonous delicacies. Volstagg had already devoured what appeared to be a whole wild boar while Fandral and Thor entertained a gaggle of young ladies. From her spot Sigyn waved to Sif who smiled and motioned her over. 

Working her way through the crowd, she eventually broke through and found herself standing before the Allfather’s golden thrown. The one-eyed king nodded his welcome to her and Sigyn offered a polite bow, lowering her head in the great king’s presence. When she rose, she noticed that the king and queen did not sit alone. Next to them, in his finest regalia, was Loki. 

Gone was the lanky boy from her childhood, with his awkwardly long limbs and large eyes. In his place was a handsome young man, tall and slender, draped in deep green fabric and trimmed with golden armor. There was the angled jaw, the sharp yet soft chin, all perfectly matured into an elegant face, and the blue eyes of the garden, sparking and flashing. He was so regal, his sleek dark hair pulled back off his face, that Sigyn nearly forgot her breath.

Suddenly, he was in front of her, sweeping gracefully down the stairs of the throne to stand before her. 

“You look wondrous,” he smiled, taking her by the hand and leading her to his seat. 

“If I had known I’d be competing with you,” Sigyn smirked, “I would have worn something with a bit more…” she eyed the horned helm by his chair, “flash.” He followed her gaze and began to laugh nervously, running a shaking hand through his hair.

“Yes,” he stuttered with a smile, “the horns were something of a dig at Thor. Those feathers of his.” Sigyn feigned injury.

“You don’t like feathers?” she frowned, reaching a hand to the delicate plumes in her hair.

“Oh no!” Loki attempted to correct himself, “I mean – yes! Yes, I do like feathers.” Sigyn began to snicker, almost feeling sorry for the stumbling prince, but he caught her charade and quickly threw out a wicked sneer. “Must you always make me feel so idiotic?” 

“I think you need a bit of your own medicine, every now and again,” she replied with a flourish. 

“My mother would agree with you,” Loki gave a quick glance back at the Queen Mother who sat loyally at his father’s side. “Perhaps she’ll teach you more tricks for keeping me in line.” 

“I suppose I would be learning from a master,” Sigyn laughed. “She has been keeping you in line for centuries.”

“She has been trying,” he corrected her. They continued to talk, listening to the music and watching the people dance around the floor. Her mother had a new partner for every song, a visible line of men forming near her table on the other side of the room. Tonight her mother wore a slinky pink gown whose sleeves fell far off her shoulders and her golden hair fell in luscious curls down her back, rippling like waves as she spun and twirled. 

“Seems your mother is quiet the star this evening,” Loki commented and Sigyn’s spirits seemed to drop as she wondered what it would have been like to inherit her mother’s legendary beauty. “But,” Loki grabbed her attention, wrapping smooth fingers around her wrist, “she doesn’t exactly strike me as a dancer.” He was gently pulling her toward the dance floor as the musicians began another tune. Sigyn’s heart began to race and she frightfully shook her head.

“No, no, no,” she insisted, gently pulling her arm back. “I am no good at dancing.”

“Then how lucky you are,” Loki smirked, “that I am an excellent dancer.”

“Such modesty,” Sigyn joked, but the momentary break in her resistance had allowed Loki to pull her fully to the dance floor and she found herself surrounded by dozens of other dancers. She knew the song well enough, knew the steps that the dance would entail, but all she could think was that she wanted to melt into the marble floor. Only Loki’s challenging gaze pushed her on. If he thought he could beat her at this, he was sorely mistaken.

As the music began with a steady even beat, the bodies on the floor moved into position. The ladies and men moved in opposites, mirroring the moves of their partners as they kept in tight rows. They would come together, touch hands for a moment, and then back once more, each time Loki shooting her a satisfied smile. As much as she hated to admit it, Sigyn was enjoying herself. By simply ignoring the people around her, she was able to focus on her feet and she felt far less exposed. She began smiling at him from across the floor as they moved about. 

Soon, they were inches apart, the ladies and men on either side nothing more than mirages. It was the happy silence she had so enjoyed in their childhood, but with the warmth and life of a thousand sun beams as the music slowed. They circled around each other, hands extended, as the music seemed to come to a low. As she let her hand settle at her side, Sigyn felt the tickle of another presence. Her fingers brushed with Loki’s and a glittering gold spark jumped from her hand. Though she was surprised, Loki himself seemed near utter horror, looking up at her as if he expected her to slap him clean across his porcelain cheek. 

But Sigyn would never, especially not now. The spark had sent a life through her, a brilliant light that had set her aglow. A wide smile spread across her face and soon Loki, too, was grinning like a fool. The music quickened to a lively pace. In an exaggerated show, Loki bowed his head and extended his hand, causing Sigyn to laugh at the sight. She returned his show with one of her own, graciously bowing before taking his hand. As soon as she did, he whisked her up and they were swirling across the marble floor. 

Somewhere in the distance, Sigyn could hear Thor’s joyous cheers roaring through the room, quickly joined by the rhythmic clapping of a thousand hands. She and Loki whipped about each other, spinning tightly and racing over the marble. His face was lit with ecstasy as he hoisted her into the air and swung her about. It was then that Sigyn saw the expanse of the ball room. The floor had cleared except for them and the entire scene was filled with glittering gold snow, falling in magical waves from somewhere unseen, but she knew very well from where it came. It came from her. As Loki brought her back down, she caught a glimpse of light flashing near his feet, watching as an arch of green magic flung out from his sweeping cape. 

It was green and gold everywhere as the crowd cheered for them, Thor’s exuberant shouts egging them on. Soon, Sigyn could see even the Allfather and queen clapping in time to the music as their son spun her tighter. As the music finally crashed to a glorious finale, the entirety of the massive hall had erupted in rapturous applause, shouting and cheering for the young prince and the granddaughter of the sea. Sigyn’s chest heaved with each breath, her face flushed and her skin prickled with excitement. Loki seemed in a similarly thrilled state, his armor glinting in the light of the hall as he smiled at her. Bowing to pressure, Loki and Sigyn turned to the crowd, allowing for a moment of applause for their delightful show. They bowed to the queen and king, who raised a goblet in salute as his wife clapped. 

Loki led her from the floor, taking her to the table where Thor, Sif, and the rest were waiting to applaud them once more. 

“A glorious show!” Thor shouted, giving Loki a fierce whack on his back. 

“Who would have thought the little snake could dance,” Fandral joked, flashing Loki a devilish smile. “But I suppose,” he turned to Sigyn and kissed her hand, “all it takes is a beautiful partner.” 

“Or a drunk fool,” Sif gave the swordsman a playful shove, sending him back into his harem of admirers. “Sigyn has always been a wonderful dancer.”

“Indeed,” Thor smiled and passed her a goblet of wine. Sigyn accepted it graciously and threw it back, much to the table’s collected surprise. 

“What?” Sigyn asked. “Am I not allowed to be thirsty?” The table erupted with laughter and cheers as Thor handed Sigyn another glass. This one she turned away. 

“Too much of a good thing,” she assured him.

“Nonsense!” Thor roared, passing the goblet off to Volstagg. “You’ll need nourishment to continue dancing like that.” 

Sigyn shook her head, “No, no more dancing for me tonight.” She looked up at Loki, “I think I’d rather sit instead.” Loki smiled at her, his blue eyes shining. “If you’ll give me a moment,” she said as she heard her mother calling, “I believe I am needed.” The others bid her adieu for the moment, Loki whispering that he’d wait for her at his chair, before she raced off toward her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an additional layer, I imagined Loki and Sigyn dancing to Mumford & Sons' "Awake My Soul". Enjoy.
> 
> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	5. Chapter 5

“She is a fantastic dancer,” Volstagg announced through thick bites. Loki huffed, lazily scanning the crowd for her dark gold curls. She hadn’t been gone long at this point, but Loki was eager for her company regardless. His brother’s friends had grown more intoxicated as the night pressed on and Fandral’s sexist comments could only go unacknowledged for a little while longer.

“It’s that mother of hers that’s the real catch,” the drunk swordsman interjected. “All those curves. It’s a pity the poor girl didn’t snatch some of that up in the womb.” Loki could tolerate it no longer. He shot from his chair and flew down the stairs, leaving his brother’s table laughing and belching, none the wiser that one was missing from their number. 

Loki perched near the edge of the stairs, his father’s throne looming behind as he continued to scan the crowds. Perhaps she had left for the night, tired of the festive debauchery. He could sympathize. He was about to retire for the evening, content to see Sigyn tomorrow, when he spotted her on the dance floor. Despite her claims that there would be no more dancing that evening, Sigyn now gently spun in the muscular arms of a brunette youth. He was heavily armored, with a dark red cloak, but his arms were exposed to highlight his size. 

Immediately, Loki felt a sting. Sigyn was laughing, smiling as the brute twirled her about. He knew himself to be a fool, now, and Loki vanished from the grand ballroom, sneaking out through the veranda doors. No one would notice he was gone, not with Thor and his buffoons entertaining the lot. Loki slammed into the railing of the patio, gripping his hands tightly around the stone as he doubled over. Though he tried to fight it back, a single defiant tear escaped his eyes and plopped into the grass far below. 

This was not his Sigyn; she had never been his. Not now, not then. She was just another girl, beautiful and wonderful as she was. Just another lady twirling about in the glittering splendor of the palace. He was a fool to think that she would ever want him. The granddaughter of the sea, Sigyn’s claim to nobility was great, but she had never been one to flaunt. He had thought he found in her a kindred soul, one who had as much disdain for the frills of nobility as he, but he was wrong. Just another girl. 

“Loki?” her voice caught him off guard and he quickly regained composure, not a trace of the fleeting weakness on his face as he stood at the railing.

“Lady Sigyn,” he replied coldly. She appeared at his side, looking up at him with concerned questioning. 

“You disappeared from the hall like a shadow,” she said, a twinge of pain in her voice. “Is something wrong?” 

“Nothing at all,” he muttered. “Just needed a bit of fresh air, a bit of reality.” 

“Reality,” she repeated. “An interesting thought.”

“Hardly,” he forced himself not to look at her. “One needs a bit of reality when in danger of drowning in fantasy.” 

“What fantasy is that?” Sigyn insisted.

“Oh, enough already!” he spat, finally turning to face her. The shock on her face was almost enough to convert him once more. “You don’t need to humor me anymore.”

“Humor you?” she retorted. “What the Hel do you mean?”

“It was a pretty dance, Lady Sigyn,” he hissed, “but it loses its value once you offer it to any meathead who happens to walk past.” If there were any effort left to her ruse, it disappeared now once she realized he had found her out, but instead of the look of offense he had hoped to see, Sigyn only looked at him with pity. 

“You mean Theoric,” she muttered, leaning against the railing and starring into the night. 

“I’m surprised you could remember one of their names,” Loki snorted. 

“Do you think I’m some sort of trollop?” Sigyn snapped. “After everything you know of me, you think I would be like that? Be like her?” Immediately, Sigyn’s face turned sour. 

“Well, perhaps I do not know you as well as I had thought,” he mumbled. This is what truly seemed to break her heart. 

“Really? You think you do not know me?” The sincere pain in her voice made his reserve crumble. “Theoric is a guard of the Red Falcons. A meathead, as you so poetically put it, to the core. My mother insisted I dance with him. I smiled and laughed so as not to offend him or bring my mother’s wrath upon myself.”

Loki was overwhelmed with shame, a feeling to which he was not accustomed. Sigyn seemed truly hurt by his words and he wanted to make amends. 

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “Would you forgive me?” Sigyn gave a weak grin and shook her head.

“Of course,” she replied. “Who am I to deny forgiveness to a crown prince?” It was not the answer Loki had hoped for. “Don’t give me that look,” Sigyn scoffed. “We may have played together as children. You might even have grown fond of me, but anything beyond that was mere conjecture. I am no highborn lady of Asgard,” she looked off into the darkness. “I am not suited for a prince.” This was most certainly not the answer Loki had hoped for. 

“I would toss away each of those highborn ladies,” he replied, bravely placing his hand gently on hers, “send them falling off the Bifrost if they so much as thought themselves above you.” At this Sigyn raised her gaze to meet him and he was caught in her sea-mist eyes, a cool warmth of greys and blues like the quiet that comes after the chaos of a raging storm. “You are my dearest friend, Sigyn.” 

“Despite knowing nothing about me?” her eyes flashed with mischief. “How very trusting you are, Loki.” In a great flourish of his cape, Loki bowed his head and held a hand to his heart.

“Then I swear from this moment on,” he announced jokingly, “that I will dedicate each day that you are here to learning all I can about you. From your deepest dreams to your favorite color. This I swear.” 

“My favorite color?” Sigyn chuckled. “Is this really so important?”

“It is of the utmost importance,” he assured her as he rose to his feet, “and I must know.” For a while, Sigyn did not answer. “Will you withhold this valuable information from me, dear lady?” Loki implored.

Finally, she answered smiling, “Green.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	6. Chapter 6

The strappings of her riding boots had cinched snuggly around her calves as Sigyn laced them up, the brown leather soft from years of loving wear. Now, as she strode through the halls of Asgard’s palace, each step brought her closer to yet another memory of her childhood. The letter from Loki had arrived yesterday afternoon and the young maid that had delivered it seemed shocked to see the green seal of the younger prince pressed upon the parchment. Sigyn had not cared, quickly opening the letter with excitement and learning of Loki’s invitation. 

Turning the corner, Sigyn found herself in the courtyards of Asgard’s legendary stables. Beautiful sorrels and palominos huffed in the stalls, their hooves tapping on the cobblestone paths as they strode past. She reached out a hand, gently stroking the coat of a lovely blue roan mare. 

“Do you like her?” Loki’s voice floated in her ear. She simply smiled and continued to massage the mare’s neck. 

“She is lovely,” she purred in the creature’s ear and it pleasantly bobbed its head. 

“Then she shall be your mount for today’s ride,” Loki waved over the stable master, instructing him to saddle the mare. In moments, the stable hand was helping Sigyn into the mare’s saddle.

“What is her name?” Sigyn asked, smoothing out the mare’s mane. 

“Gråvann, milady,” the gentlemen replied. _Grey Water._

“Are we ready, then?” Loki’s voice rose from behind. Sigyn turned in her saddle to see him approaching on a sleek black colt. 

“That is entirely up to you,” Sigyn sneered. “You seem to take longer to prepare than most of my sisters.”

“What are you implying, Lady Sigyn?” Loki smirked. 

“That I will surely win,” she retorted, giving Gråvann a swift kick, sending them flying through the stable doors and into the vast meadowlands. Gråvann was an able mount, sturdy and smooth, gliding over hills and through shaded woods. Loki was not far behind, the sound of his colt’s hooves pounding behind her, but he had yet to pass her up. By the time she reached the clearing, soaring over the fallen tree before her, Loki was hovering beside her, suspended in his saddle as they broke through the tree line. 

“You seem surprised!” Sigyn shouted at him from across the clearing. He was laughing as he dismounted, both removing the bridles from their horses before setting them to the grass. 

“I can honestly say,” he replied as he jogged over, “that I did not expect you to beat me.” 

“You princes,” Sigyn teased, “always so sure of yourselves.” 

They settled in the plush grass near the edge of the brook, folding out a thin blanket on which they spread their collection of bread and fruit. Eager to be free of her restrictive boots, Sigyn set to unlacing them and tossed them aside as she dipped her feet into the crisp water. 

“Scoff all you like,” Sigyn mumbled, tilting her head back to catch the sun as Loki began to chuckle, “Next thing you know, your boots will be sitting next to mine.” Within a moment, his black boots lay discarded in the grass next to hers and his feet hung in the water. 

“That is nice,” he moaned, tilting his head back to match hers. 

“Imagine the same thing,” Sigyn said, “but walking into the ocean. Water everywhere, surrounding you, suspending you, supporting you. Every ache and pain just washes away with the tides.” 

“Sounds glorious.”

“Have you not been to the sea?” Sigyn prodded.

“Not in a long time,” Loki replied, the sun shining off the beads of sweat on his forehead. 

“Perhaps you could visit me in Vanaheim,” she offered. “My grandfather’s estate is right on the beach. You can spend days out there, just forget the world.”

“I would like that,” Loki smiled at her. They sat in the silence of the clearing, basking in the warmth of the sun, until Loki spoke once more. “May I ask something of you?”

“Anything.” She realized her response may have been a bit overzealous.

“Do you remember the small flower you made me?” Loki tilted his head to look at her. 

“Of course,” she smiled, thinking of the tiny orange bloom from their days in the library. 

“Could you do it again?” 

As she leaned forward to see him better, the sunlight blinded her for a moment. When her vision had cleared Sigyn could have sworn she saw a young Loki sitting in front of her once more. The small boy who had begged to see her magic in the gardens after he had butchered the task of turning a twig into a snake. She could only smile brighter.

Tucking her feet beneath her, Sigyn held out her hand, feeling as the warmth began to stir inside. It danced up her arms, down her neck, filling her fingertips with light as the tiny golden sparkles began to appear. One by one they joined together until a delicate green sprig sprouted from her palm, winding into the air. Leaves sprung from each side, climbing up to the small round bud that was newly bursting. From it came a soft orange blossom with petals round like a circle and a tiny golden center. As the magic began to fade, Sigyn gently plucked the blossom from her hand and held it out to Loki. 

“For you,” she smiled and he gingerly grasped the flower. 

“I will cherish it forever,” he said. 

“That’s what you said with the last one,” Sigyn jumped to her feet with a laugh, “and look where we are now!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	7. Chapter 7

Sigyn often thought of their day in the meadow, how they had spent hours talking and casting simple spells before riding back to the palace for the night’s banquet. The following weeks had been filled with such days: riding back to the meadow, fishing in the river, practicing spells, riffling through the library. She was even able to perform a small vision for Loki, predicting that he would cut his finger on a poorly thrown knife while training with Thor. He had raced through the halls triumphantly waving the wrapped finger the day the knife flew. 

Eventually, though, they were both needed elsewhere, Loki in his father’s weekly councils and Sigyn in the Queen Mother’s study. Her lessons had begun and she was feverishly excited, but she was often sent to the healers’ rooms to tend to the wounded soldiers from Asgard’s various campaigns. Someone with her natural skill was generally needed and healing was far less strenuous than her lessons in seeing. 

For now, the head healers had sent Sigyn to the surrounding woods to gather herbs for the wounded. Normally, a servant would be sent for such menial tasks, but the identification of healing herbs was a delicate matter, a simple change in leaf shape meaning the difference between antidote and poison. Sigyn didn’t mind. She enjoyed wandering the lush woods of Asgard’s surrounding fields. She’d tethered her horse at the edge of the tree line; Gråvann was taking a day of rest, so she had been given a young foal to ride to the forest. She preferred to walk the gentle, sloping paths of the woods, and it made for far easier harvesting. 

She reached down to pluck a handful of elderberry when she heard a rustle in the leaves. Turning to look, Sigyn saw nothing more than the gentle swaying bows being bent by the breeze. A yellow finch fluttered from branch to branch and she smiled, returning to scanning the forest floor. She still needed purple cone flowers and they would be hard to find this late in the season, especially in this region. A twig snapped behind her and Sigyn jumped, turning quickly to nervously search the surrounding trees. She saw nothing and cursed her own frightfulness. Still, she reached inside her cloak and felt for the dagger hanging at her waist. 

It was a foolish idea, thinking that a small dagger would scare off something as formidable as a bear or wolf, but Sigyn carried it all the same. At the very least she could injury the creature before running terrified back to Asgard’s palace. She chuckled at the thought of the ridiculous sight she’d make. 

“Something amuse you, lovely?” a deep voice shattered the silence of the woods. Immediately, Sigyn was on edge. As she turned she spotted a dark haired, bearded man emerging from the trees, stepping down onto the path with a loud thud. All around she heard the sounds of feet moving closer and she slowly turned her head. At least five other men had appeared from the woods, each carrying a threatening sword on their hip. As they closed in on her, Sigyn calculated her options. 

They had successfully blocked off both sides of the path, but left small openings between them on the sides of the woods. She could dash through and still find her way to her foal. As she began selecting the most opportune moment, a man leapt in front of her, gnashing his teeth like a rabid dog. Wolves. 

“Come now, boys,” the bearded man called. “Don’t frighten the poor thing. She might spook and then where will our payment go?” Kidnappers. They were going to hold her for ransom. At least they were smart enough to choose a target from a wealthy family. 

“Now, don’t go getting any ideas, pretty,” the bearded man loomed closer, his bulk nearly blocking out the sunbeams. Bear. He drew his sword, holding it out at her. In one swift move Sigyn threw her basket at his face, sending him flying back into the hillside. Dagger in hand, she sliced at the next man, tearing open his sleeve and ripping fresh a new splash of crimson. Another charged and she tossed him aside, golden light smashing him into the dirt. She saw her chance and dove into the woods. 

Sigyn could hear them behind her, the roaring of the bear-man and the yipping and howling of his wolves as they chased after her. The trees seemed to move for her, opening a path to the outer meadows where her foal waited. She could see him beyond the tree line, light brown coat flashing in the sunlight, but they were gaining ground. Sigyn swore she could feel their breath on her neck. She would have no time to mount. 

As she broke through the trees Sigyn reached for the bridle, ripping it loose from the branch and screaming at the foal to run. She smacked it on the rump, adding a sharp sting of magic to send the colt scurrying away. In a moment, they were on her, thick arms wrapping around her as she kicked and screamed. In a final attack she ripped at her assailant’s arms with her teeth, sharpening them to points with her magic. The man howled and soon her world went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki did not usually frequent the stables these days without Sigyn by his side, but he did enjoy the hypnotic lull that came from grooming the gentle beasts. Gråvann, in particular, had grown to be a familiar sight and the mare bobbed her head in recognition whenever he grew near. He had learned from the palace staff that Sigyn had been sent on an errand by the healers and he hoped he could catch her as she returned from the woods. 

There was an eruption of shouts in the stables and people rushed toward the entrance as a small brown colt tore into the courtyard, its dark eyes wide with terror. It took three stable hands to restrain the creature and Loki immediately approached with the stable master. 

“What is the meaning of this!” the old man demanded. The foal reared and whinnied, pounding its hooves on the cobblestone. 

“We don’t know, sir!” one of the boys shouted. “Brungutt was meant for the Lady Sigyn today!” 

Loki’s skin went cold. Sigyn. He ordered the foal stabled and the stable master to follow him. If he sent a messenger ahead, his father would be waiting when he got there with Thor and the others.

~*~

Sigyn had attempted escape three times already. First, by rolling from the back of her captor’s horse and tumbling down the hill. She was thusly bound. Second, by screaming gold sparks into the sky. This resulted only in a gag over her mouth. Third, by kicking her captor square between the legs. He was not pleased. Not that she cared. The man was repulsive in more ways than one. After giving her a forceful blow to the back of her head, he settled to terrorizing a chunk of greasy meat while his companions belched and cursed around the fire. 

They had been smart to capture someone with a name and title, but their intelligence ended as soon as they began discussing every aspect of their lives without hesitation. Apparently they thought the gag over her mouth also obstructed her hearing. She learned that they were criminals, contract thieves collecting a target to sell to the highest bidder. So not exactly a ransom. They discussed rates and potential profits, constantly grumbling as to why anyone would pay so much for a girl, even one as pretty as her. Their leader reminded them of Sigyn’s magic, snarling that a seer had far more value than the freshness of her flower. 

That was fine by her, but if any of them attempted to test that theory Sigyn would feel no reservation over severing them from their most precious limb. She only needed time for her message to be received. 

~*~

“The Lady Sigyn is what?” the Allfather bellowed.

“Captured, father,” Loki repeated. “By mercenaries. We have yet to receive a ransom, but I for one am not eager to wait so long. I ask that you permit myself, Thor, and a small company of warriors to reclaim her.” The Allfather shook his head.

“What has this realm come to,” he said woefully, “that young ladies are snatched from my own woods without warning?” 

“Father,” Loki insisted, “every minute puts greater distance between us and Lady Sigyn. I implore you to give the order.” 

There was an awareness in the old king’s eyes as he looked down upon his youngest son. Seeing the desperation there, he nodded.

“Bring her back,” the Allfather instructed, “by any means necessary.” Loki’s blood boiled in his veins. He meant to. Odin placed Loki at command of the company, instructing Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three to follow his command, but Loki was not listening. He thought only of the stables and the thrashing young colt. 

When he reached the stables the foal had not yet settled from its frenzy, pacing and puffing from wall to wall. The stable hand shot to his feet at the sight of the young prince.

“Report.”

“The foal was given to the Lady Sigyn only this morning,” the man explained. “She was sent by the head healers to gather supplies in the northeast woods.” At this, the young man’s brow furrowed with worry, “Brungutt has never behaved this way, my lord.” Loki only nodded and lifted the latch on the stall door. “My lord!” the stable hand exclaimed, “It is not safe!” But Loki had already entered the stall. The brown foal was pacing anxiously from side to side, shaking its head as if it were tormented by circling flies. Loki approached slowly, hands raised. Immediately, the creature was on edge. 

“Shhh,” Loki hushed it, slowly moving closer. He was finally able to place a hand on the creature, calming it to the point that it closed its great brown eyes. “I need you to tell me something,” he brushed his thumb along the beast’s brow, spotting the tiny cut that Sigyn had predicted. “I need you to tell me where she is.”

“Incredible,” the stable hand whispered as he crept in behind Loki. 

“Does he normally do that?” Loki pointed as the foal flicked and stomped and flayed its back feet. 

Upon further inspection, the stable hand shook his head, “No. He must have gotten into something when he was in the woods with -”

“Sigyn,” Loki mumbled, staring into the creature’s eyes. “What could have caused such a behavior?”

“Poison ivy, maybe?” the stable hand replied. “Some sort of irritant or maybe even a cut. I’ll have to check his back legs and rump.” 

“Let me see,” Loki swooped around to the beast’s rear. Scanning the creature’s coat, Loki searched for some sort of sign, a signal, anything, but the foal’s legs were clean. Not a rash or cut to be seen. Nearing hopelessness, Loki was ready to leave, but something near the beast’s tail caught his gaze – a familiar glimmer of golden sparkles. Looking closer, Loki noticed that there was a faint shape formed by the hair on the creature’s backside. 

“This here,” Loki pointed. “What is it?” The stable hand studied the patch of hair. 

“Ugh,” he huffed. “He must’ve gotten into something.”

“So, it’s not a birthmark?” Loki became feverish. 

“Birthmark?” the stable hand remarked. “No.” It was all Loki needed to hear, tearing out of the stall and out of the stables. Thor and the others would already be prepared. 

“Saddle the horses!” he shouted at the stable master. He knew where Sigyn was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	9. Chapter 9

After almost an hour of fidgeting, Sigyn’s tongue broke through the gag, pushing is aside and letting it fall down her neck. She groaned in relief. 

“Hey!” she shouted and her captors stumbled back in shock. “Did you ever think I might be hungry? Or thirsty? It’s been hours.” They didn’t seem to care. They were only concerned with gagging her once more, perhaps afraid that she’d bite them again or send sparks into the darkening sky. It didn’t matter to her. Her dagger lay near the flicking flames of the fire and she had no doubt that Loki would find her message. 

~*~

Loki tore into the hearth room and Thor and the others startled at his arrival. 

“Brother,” Thor flew to his side. “We have news. Villagers spotted golden sparks in the skies above the -”

“Northeastern woods, yes,” Loki interjected. “I already new. How long after she left?”

“Not two hours,” Thor replied. Loki set to strapping on his cloak and numerous daggers. “Brother,” Thor said, “I understand how you must feel, but we cannot hope to know where in the woods the Lady Sigyn is.” 

“I know where she is,” Loki informed them. “The Allfather put you under my order. Can you swear that you will follow my instruction?” 

“You know where she is?” Sif demanded. “Where?” 

“A place we once went as children,” Loki fastened his cloak, his blue eyes burning. “Follow me and don’t fall behind.” 

The ride to the edge of the northeastern woods was short, especially at the pace Loki was keeping. They tethered their mounts at the forest’s edge and Loki immediately set to scanning the damp ground. A large branch lay snapped and broken in the grass, its former home hanging raged in the setting sun. It was not a natural fall; something must have ripped it from its place. Brungutt. 

“This is where she was taken,” Loki thought aloud. Hogun appeared at his side.

“Yes,” the quiet man confirmed. “There are many footsteps here.” 

“Then what are we waiting for?” Thor roared. “We should be charging through these trees and ripping those cowards limb from limb!”

“Soon enough,” Loki growled and even Thor seemed to take a step back. “Move.” They dove into the trees. Sigyn would have stayed to the path for the most part. That much he knew, but Loki ignored the path and made a straight line for their old hideout. The mark on the colt’s rump had been from Sigyn, a sign she left hoping that he would find it. With her magic she had left an image in the creature’s coat – a cone flower. They were only ever found in one portion of the northeastern woods. 

As they drew near Loki and Sigyn’s childhood retreat, Loki drew his dagger. Thor and the others followed suit, the sound of metal scraping across metal as weapons were wielded. A campsite came into view through the trees.

There were possibly four to five men, but Loki finally spotted Sigyn tied and gaged next to a tree. She had several cuts and scrapes across her face and a dark patch of dried blood was caked on her temple. He wanted to rip their spines out. As Loki and Thor crept through the trees, the mercenaries sprang to life. 

“Let the girl go,” Thor warned them, “and you will not be harmed. You have my word.” The man pulled out a vicious knife and held it against Sigyn’s throat. It was more than Loki could take. 

Each man charged at him, but none were able to land a single blow. They swung great swords at him and massive axes, but Loki needed only two daggers to bring them to their knees. He sliced and cut, stabbed and ripped, sending each disgraceful mutt crashing to the ground in a pool of blood until only Sigyn’s captor remained. Teeth bared, Loki spun to face the fool. A sly smile spread across his face when he saw what had become of the man.

He was on his knees, a fresh and angry cut slashed across his face as Sigyn loomed behind, her dagger pressed against his back and golden-clawed fingers poised at his throat. 

“Did you think I was helpless?” she purred in his ear. 

“Your men are defeated,” Thor announced, “and you will now be brought before Odin Allfather so your crimes may be judged.” He stepped forward and took the prisoner from Sigyn’s grasp, fitting him with a set of shackles around his wrists. As they led him away, Loki was free to face Sigyn. 

“Loki,” she smiled, taking a step forward. That’s when he heard it, a sharp whizzing in his ears, and then he saw it, a flash of light in the shadows. The arrow came tearing through the air, aimed for Sigyn’s head. There wasn’t the time to deflect it, nor the time to transport Sigyn from its path. Forcing his body to move faster, Loki threw himself on top of Sigyn and a searing pain ripped through his shoulder as the arrow dug into his flesh. His face collided with the cold ground and his vision swam in spirals. 

He could hear her screaming, not in pain but in fear, and he knew that he had done it. Her face came into focus only for a moment before the world went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Non-explicit, mature sexual content to follow.

Sigyn paced outside the healers’ room for hours, only stopping to lean against the doors once her feet went numb. Servants and maids scurried in and out constantly for the first few hours, but now they emerged only once or twice an hour and she didn’t know whether to take it as a sign of luck or tragedy. 

The Allfather and Queen Mother had arrived only moments after the healers had carried Loki, bleeding, into the room, the doors slamming with a resounding thud behind them. Sigyn had not been allowed in, so she waited in the hall with Sif and the Warriors Three until they, too, left. Now, only she remained standing outside Loki’s door. 

Suddenly, the great door creaked open and Thor emerged. 

“He is fine,” Thor assured her after seeing the panic on her face. “The arrow missed his heart, but he lost much blood. Luckily, Sif found your basket during our return and the yarrow you gathered was used to stop the bleeding.” Sigyn had forgotten about her task and praised her ancestors for the stroke of good fortune, but there was truly only one thing on her mind and Thor seemed to know it already. “You can go in now.” Despite her better judgment, she gave Thor a quick hug before slipping through the massive doors. 

Loki lay in the great bed, soft creamy sheets draped over his bandaged body. With his hand in hers, the Queen Mother sat at his side. As Sigyn closed the door, she looked up.

“My child,” she stood and held out her arms. Sigyn did not know what possessed her to do it, but to see a mother holding out her arms brought tears to her eyes. She curled into Frigga’s embrace and cried. “Oh, my dear girl,” the queen stroked her hair. 

“I’m so sorry!” Sigyn cried, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…” 

“My dear girl,” the queen raised Sigyn’s head, brushing the tears from her face, “Whatever for?”

“It’s my fault!” Sigyn cried. “I was careless, reckless. I didn’t see it coming. I should have warned him. I could have warned him, but now -” She looked at Loki as he lay beside them. 

“Child,” Frigga grasped her tight. “This was no one’s fault. Merely the selfish acts of a few foolish men. Loki and Thor did what any other would have done to save one so precious.” Sigyn could only smile and allow Frigga to smooth her hair and reset her braids. Softly, there came a moaning and rustling from the bed and Sigyn’s eyes snapped to him, her heart racing. 

“Tears?” Loki muttered, “Already? I’m not even dead.” Sigyn couldn’t help but laugh as Loki raised himself from the bed, the left half of his torso wrapped in white bandages. 

“Now, now,” Frigga interjected. “A mother is allowed tears when her son is in shambles.”

Loki gripped his mother’s hand with a smile before turning a sly look on Sigyn, “And what’s your excuse?”

Sigyn scoffed and waved him off, “Who said I was crying? I only worried that you’d forgotten to return my defensive spells research. How would I ever find it in that mess of your study?” This made Loki laugh and Sigyn smiled once more. Suddenly, Loki’s eyes wandered off.

“Mother,” he called out. “Where are you off to?” The queen had nearly escaped out the door when she turned around and flashed a clever smile. 

“My son is in capable hands,” she informed them, glancing at Sigyn. “I feel, as a worried mother, I’ve earned a bit of rest.” 

The queen left and Sigyn stayed with Loki until the healers insisted he needed sleep. She assured him that she would check on him the next day before finally allowing the healers to put him to bed. 

~*~

The hall was dark and Sigyn had only the light of the moon peeking through towering windows to see her way. She wasn’t even sure why she was out of bed at this time of night or where she was wandering too. All she was certain of was that she couldn’t stay in her room any longer. 

She had grabbed the blanket off her bed, wrapping it around her shoulders as she wandered aimlessly through the great empty hallways. It surprised her to see no servants hustling about, but supposed that everyone had to sleep at some point. She merely took it as a blessing and continued her wonderful wandering. Except, she hadn’t really been wandering. Not truly. Somewhere, deep inside, her heart had been directing her feet. 

Gold and foreboding, the doors of the healers’ room loomed before her. How had she ended up here? Somehow, she didn’t care. She heaved them open. 

Not a soul to be seen save the one that had somehow drawn her here. Loki lay in the bed, his head rested against a pile of plush pillows as he slept. Perhaps she had only wanted to reconfirm that he was safe, that the healers’ work had been successful, and now that she had seen him she would return to her room, but no. She didn’t leave and instead moved closer still. 

As he lay peacefully under golden linens, Loki was truly beautiful. Smooth lines and soft skin, a gentle sloop to his nose and a faint fullness to his lips. His raven hair was free from its daily restraint, shaking loose to hang next to his ivory face. He appeared almost like a vison, a figment of her imagination sent by the old gods to torment her. No, he could never be such a torment. Never. Not this beautiful man. His hand lay only inches from hers and she wanted so badly to touch it, to remind herself that he was real, that he was alive. She lifted her hand, but held back, convincing herself it wasn’t appropriate. 

Resolved to return to her bed and forget her foolish wandering, Sigyn rose to her feet and turned for the door. But she did not get far. A soft, cool hand had wrapped around hers and she turned to see Loki looking up at her, his eyes hooded from sleep. Sigyn tried to apologize, but the words would not emerge as Loki pulled her closer. 

She could not believe it was happening until the moment the space between them disappeared. Her body felt alive at his touch, the feeling of him pulling her into his bed, the sensation of his bare skin against hers. With each kiss he poured himself into her, his passion and energy, until they were a mess of limbs tangled beneath the sheets. She never wanted to leave this bed, never wanted to leave his side. It was as she had always dreamed it would be, the feeling of him touching her gently, sweetly, delicately pressing himself against her, his fingers dancing over her skin as if she were made of porcelain. She never wanted it to end. 

Warm fingers cupped her face as he pushed into her, wrapping her up in his limbs, enveloping her. Sigyn collapsed into him, letting herself fall in entirely. He was beautiful and wonderful and sweet and she couldn’t image a world without him. As he gently brushed the hair from her face, he smiled and she melted. 

Jolting upright, Sigyn awoke from her dream in a feverish cold sweat. All around were the furnishings of the Asgardian palace’s guest quarters and she felt as reality sunk in. A dream. How could she have been so foolish? Resting against her knees, Sigyn attempted to slow her racing heart. She closed her eyes, but the comforting blackness was laced with images of him. His face, his hands, his lips. Sigyn shook him from her mind, rubbing at her burning eyes. 

She was rife with shame. He was a prince of Asgard and she a lowly noble. She should not have such thoughts about him. It was unwise. Still, Sigyn could not shake his face from her mind. Each time she closed her eyes to sleep he was there smiling at her with gleaming blue eyes. Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillow and imagined what it would be like to wake and see his face lying next to hers. No, it would never be. Not in any way. She would never be his wife and she refused to be any man’s mistress. She would forget these dreams and be content to spend time with him, to share their interests and skills, and one day she would move on to a happy life. It was the most she could hope for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit, sexual content to follow.

Three days later a banquet was held to celebrate Sigyn’s safe return and Loki’s successful recovery. As grateful as he was for both aspects, Loki was not looking forward to yet another opportunity for Thor and his comrades to poke and prod him, especially on the topic of Sigyn. Despite his insistence, the event went on as planned and in three days’ time he was standing in his festive regalia once more. 

Helm in hand, Loki strode down the hall. Servants hurried all around carrying platters of food and urns of wine, but they moved like cogs to make way for the young Asgardian prince. As he drew closer to the banquet hall, nobles and guests began to fill the hallways and they smiled and nodded as the prince passed by. Soon, several noblemen shouted their approval, hailing Loki’s acts as heroic. If he had known that taking an arrow for a pretty maiden would have gained him such acceptance, Loki would have done it far sooner. Although, Sigyn had been the only reason to do it in the first place.

When he entered the banquet hall the room’s rafters shook with the collective cheering, Thor’s distinct roar rising above all the rest as Loki was ushered to stand before the great golden throne. Sigyn stood nearby, her mother and grandfather on either side. Loki was immensely surprised to see him in person since the old sea king rarely left his coastal estate anymore, but Sigyn seemed more than pleased to have her grandfather at her side. 

Odin Allfather rose to his feet, driving Gungnir into the floor with an echoing thud, and the hall fell silent. 

“On this day,” Odin spoke, “we celebrate the bravery and valor of our courageous warriors who once again risked their lives in the service of others, none more so than the selfless warriors of Loki Odinson and Sigyn Freyadottir. In the face of treachery and terror they did not waver, standing strong against those who would see fear brought into our homes. On this day, we honor their bravery and sacrifice, for it is these things, above all else, that will carry our people into the glorious future.” 

At this, the hall erupted with cheers and applause, goblets hoisted from corner to corner. Odin raised his hand and the excitement hushed. 

“To my son,” he looked down at Loki, “my youngest child, the boy who has grown into a man, I offer my sincerest gratitude and praises. Your wit and intelligence saved not only one life, but many. For this I am eternally grateful. And to the Lady Sigyn,” he turned to face the young woman, “In courage and bravery you have no equal, for to meet one’s own death face to face and deny it is a strength not often witnessed. I thank you for showing us all what true bravery is.” 

The hall roared with praise once more as feet stomped and fists pounded on tables. 

“As if we did not have enough to celebrate this day,” Odin continued and the crowd laughed, “I offer yet another reason for elation.” At this, he turned to the old sea king, Njord. “I and my old friend have come to a joyous agreement,” Odin reached for his goblet. “In gratitude for their bravery and valor, Loki Odinson and the Lady Sigyn will be married, joining the houses of Aesir and Vanir forever more!” 

The hall erupted with cheers, the walls and rafters shaking and rattling, but Loki’s ears had gone silent. His heart pounded in his chest, its fervor threatening to shatter his armor, and he would not have cared. It had to be some mistake, a twisted prank of his mind, perhaps even a jest on his father’s part. Could he be so cruel? No, as Loki watched his father shake hands with the sea king, as Thor hoisted a goblet in the air to stomping feet, as Sigyn’s face began to glow with a beautiful light, Loki knew it to be true. 

Sigyn leapt from her chair and ran to her grandfather, kissing his hands and face before throwing her arms about his neck. Loki could see the tears sparkling on her face, her smile flashing in the light of the hall as the throngs roared and cheered. Parting from her grandfather Sigyn turned to look at Loki, smiling with joy as the Allfather led the crowds in a toast to their future. With the energy surging through him, Loki feared he would soon fly through the roof. Instead he held out his hand and Sigyn raced toward him.

Face to face, Loki could see her joy, see the relief and happiness and pure love. It was true, it had happened, the dream he thought could never be, the lady he thought he could never have. Sigyn. She would be his wife. She would be his. He grasped her hands, squeezing as the people cheered. She smiled and laughed, and he could not resist. Holding her tight, Loki raised her hand, thrusting it triumphantly into the air to the roar of the crowd. 

After all the struggle, the years of clawing and fighting for acknowledgment, for the love of his people and respect of his father, Loki no longer cared. As Sigyn laughed and smiled at his side, he realized that none of it mattered anymore. With Sigyn at his side, Loki was finally free. 

~*~

Glittering and glowing, the banquet hall swelled with excitement, pressing far into the night with the fuel of the betrothal announcement. Thor had already shouted several toasts, each time drawing his brother near and crushing him with an enamored hug. For the first time, Sigyn felt as though Loki did not resist, but embrace it. He smiled and laughed, tousling his brother with equal playfulness as Thor hugged him. Even Sigyn herself had not been able to escape Thor’s love, the great lug of a man sweeping her up and swinging her about. 

“Sister!” he cried. “I have always wanted a sister!” He set her to her feet, “And now I have the finest sister in all the nine realms!” 

“It is my honor to be called sister by you, Thor -” Sigyn began.

“Brother!” Thor corrected her. 

“Brother,” she laughed, swallowed up in his crushing arms once more. When he finally freed her, Loki was there ready to take her hand. In his eyes should could see every shade of the garden, every fluttering leave, every sparkling sunbeam. She wanted never to look away. She reached for his face, to touch that beautifully sharp cheek, but Odin Allfather called out to him and Loki was forced to leave her side. Sigyn watched him go, his green cloak flourishing as he took a knee before her grandfather. The sea god spoke to him, finally resting his hand gently atop the young prince’s head. 

Sigyn wanted to jump like a child; it was all so unbelievable. She felt like she was floating through a mist, a sparkling and golden mist. All around were smiles and cheers, people congratulating her and wishing her happiness, but she had no need for their well wishes. As she looked at Loki shaking her grandfather’s hand, Sigyn knew she would never run short of happiness again. Loki. He was hers. 

Suddenly, her head began to spin. Perhaps the last glass of wine had been too much. She politely excused herself from Thor and the Warriors Three’s company, assuring Sif that she simply needed a breath of air. 

As she passed through the hall, she could see her mother nearby surrounded by her hordes of admirers. They were offering their congratulations and praise for her smart match, and Sigyn chuckled to herself. Her mother had the drive and cleverness to see her daughter married to a prince, but not the sway. Sigyn knew it had been her grandfather’s effort that had brought her this happiness, not her airheaded mother, and she would be forever in his debt. 

The patio was too crowded for her taste; even there she was congratulated and chatted. Feigning lightheadedness, Sigyn excused herself from the well-wishers and escaped the party. Stars overhead and plush grass below, the garden was a welcome retreat, a cradling memory of a time long past. All around, she could see glimpses of their escapades: racing through the trees, rolling through the brush, splashing in the pond. If only she had known then the joy she would feel now. Again, Sigyn was filled with a warmth that made her shine from within, tiny sparkles of golden light floating down from the trees overhead. 

A branch snapped behind her and Sigyn found herself back in the woods, wolves and bears on every side, but when she turned she found no fearsome lumbering form or gnashing teeth. Instead, she was met with soft blue eyes and sleek black hair.

“Loki,” she sighed with relief. He wrapped his hands around hers, lacing his fingers gently between hers. Her heart raced as he drew her close, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Say it again,” his voice was like velvet.

“Loki,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “My Loki.” He quivered against her, his head pressing further into hers. The garden around them rustled with shimmering leaves, the moonlight overhead trickling through to paint a flickering myriad on the grass below. It danced across his face and she reached up to trail her fingers along his jaw. He tilted his head to meet her, leaning in to close the gap between their skin. “Loki,” she whispered, his arms lacing around her waist and pulling her closer. 

His mouth brushed against hers, smooth lips trailing along her cheek as he threaded his hand through her curls, gently grasping at the nape of her neck. She felt his body press against hers, strong torso and slender arms wrapping around her as she carefully tilted her head to meet him. It was a careful, hesitant, innocent meeting, Loki’s pale lips and hers, but at the soonest touch a fire was set ablaze within her and Sigyn threw herself into him. 

Loki responded with equal fire, bringing her face into his, soft lips pressing burning kisses to hers. He moaned at her touch as she wrapped her arms about his neck, pulling on the sleek raven locks, bringing him closer still. There was still too much, too much between them. She needed his touch, his warmth, his scent. Their bodies melded together, whatever distance remaining disappearing as Loki removed her hood. He ran his hands over her hair, smoothing it from her face before moving to her cloak. The lavender fabric pooled at her feet as she reached for the clasp about Loki’s neck. 

The cool night air kissed her bare skin as Loki gently pulled back her gown, his chest smooth beneath her touch. There was no frantic haste, no clumsy fumbling as she undid his trousers and he leaned her back onto the grass. His soft green cloak cushioned their bed, his sleek body poised over her as he gently tugged off her shoes. For a moment, she was bare before him and suddenly felt exposed. He must have seen her hesitation for soon he was lying on top of her, covering her bare body with his, his nose brushing against hers. 

Whatever fear she felt fled like a shadow in the glorious moonlight. He smiled down at her, blue eyes glistening as he wrapped her up in his arms. She felt so safe, so secure and buried herself in his embrace. They laid in the folds of his cloak like that for what felt like forever, but then his lips found the hallow of her neck and Sigyn was set ablaze once more. This boy, no, this man. No. This god was pouring his love into her, each movement bringing them closer and closer still. Even without his crown, Sigyn would throw herself at his feet and offer her life. She would gladly confess her love, her loyalty, her soul. God or not, Loki was her god, and she would worship him in the streets, in the halls of the palace, and in the bedroom. 

Loki. Her Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an additional layer, I imagine Loki and Sigyn making love to the song "Take Me to Church" by Hozier. Enjoy. 
> 
> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	12. Chapter 12

“My Queen,” Sigyn cursed as she pricked her finger on the thorny spine of a bougainvillea vine. 

“How many times must I insist, my child,” the queen replied, holding a delicate handkerchief to the crimson bead, “You may call me mother.” Sigyn felt the heat rush to her face, her heart fluttering with joy. 

“I am only betrothed to your son,” she explained. “I am not yet your daughter.”

“Nonsense,” Frigga smiled, wrapping Sigyn’s finger with the soft white fabric. “My daughter you are and my daughter you shall always be, whether married to my son or not.” Again, Sigyn could not hide her happiness. In the last month, the queen had become something of a daily fixture in her life, not only for her lessons in magic and seeing, but also for the tasks of planning the royal wedding. Even beyond that, when the day’s lessons were completed and party planning caught up on, Frigga would often call Sigyn to her study and they would spend the evenings talking and sharing stories. The queen had been so accepting, so warm, so friendly, and welcoming Sigyn into the folds of her family without question. This must be what it is to have a mother. 

“What it is, dear?” Frigga asked, pouring a jar of milkweed into the bowl. Sigyn was immediately taken aback and the queen laughed. “Your face deceives you, Sigyn. Even if I were not a seer, I would know something is on your mind.”

“It’s just…” Sigyn wondered if it was appropriate. “I…I always wanted a mother.” She regretted her word choice. “Not that I am not grateful for the generosity of my own mother! I just…well…” Suddenly, the queen began to laugh, dropping the bottle of milk back to the table and laying a gentle hand on Sigyn’s shoulder.

“Oh, my dear child,” she smiled. “You need not fear my judgment. I understand. I have always wanted a daughter.” Sigyn’s heart leapt with joy as she and the queen returned to their concoction. “Not that I am not grateful for my two sons, lovely as they are. They just have a tendency, like all boys do, to grind on a mother’s nerves.” Sigyn tried to muffle her laughter, but the queen noticed and smirked. “You see my logic, then?”

“Of course,” Sigyn replied. “Thor is wild and adventurous, quite troublesome as a child, I could imagine,” the queen laughed and nodded, “but he is also loving and loyal.” 

“To all ends,” Frigga smiled, gently plucking the petals from a pink rose blossom. “I was so happy when he was born, to hold that glowing face in my arms. He was always so filled with energy, whether laughing or crying.” 

“That hasn’t seemed to change,” Sigyn smiled, handing her a dust of freshly crushed rose petals, “but he was always so kind, even to me when I first visited the palace as a child. I always thought him a good man.” 

“And Loki?” the queen asked, taking the bowl from her. Sigyn held to it for a moment, their hands overlapping on the smooth ceramic. “A mother sees all, dear, even the faintest blushes from the face of her most reserved son.” Sigyn did not reply. It was silly, really, that she hold back her feelings when all the palace had seen her run gleefully to Loki the night of their betrothal. “Child?” the queen encouraged her. 

“He…he…”

“Yes,” Frigga smiled, taking the bowl from her, “Loki was fond of you from the moment you stepped into our home. In fact, he told me quite often. Not directly, of course. He would never be so forthcoming about his emotions, but I could tell. He asked for you to visit near every season. It didn’t take much to see.”

“My memories of the palace were always some of my happiest,” Sigyn smiled, “and I would be a liar if I said it were not for Loki. Our time together was a treasure.” 

“And I know he feels the same,” Frigga assured her. They continued their mixing and measuring, a draught to assist in Sigyn’s lessons. Her mind wandered to that night so many weeks ago, she and Loki tangled in the garden moonlight. She had felt so guilty when she had first dreamed it, but that night she had felt no such regret. It had been beautiful and pure, innocent in its love and sweetness. Before falling into Loki’s embrace, Sigyn had questioned the reality of the moment, perhaps thinking she was lost in a dream once more, but no. It had been real and it had been wonderful. 

“Frigga,” Sigyn shook the bottle of dittany, “Is it possible to see visions of not only other places, but other times? To see that which has yet to pass?” 

“Of course, child,” the queen replied. “Many of my visions have been of such things, foretelling the future of battles and even destructive storms.” At least she was not losing her mind. Sigyn was relieved. 

~*~

Spinning the delicate flower between his fingers, Loki watched as the light flashed off the soft orange petals. He’d cast a spell on the blossom, preserving its beauty. This one would not be lost to wilt in the pages of an old book; this one would live on and grow. 

Many nights had passed and Loki still could not shake the wondrous memory from his mind. Sigyn, soft and supple in his arms, his scent soaking her from golden hair to curling toes. Flower in his fingers, flower laid before him. They would live on and grow. Someone knocked at his study door.

“Yes,” Loki mumbled and the doors swung open, a royal guard entering in. 

“The Allfather summons you, my prince,” he reported.

Loki regretfully placed the orange bloom upon his desk and rose from his chair, “Of course. Lead on, good man.” They marched through the halls, Loki nearly skipping with his joy. Soon, they were before his father’s doors. Inside, the Allfather stood at a great table, the nine realms laid out before him in flowing ripples of light and color. 

“You called for me,” Loki stood before him. 

“Yes,” Odin laid down his quill, taking a seat in his chair. “I understand that the announcement of your betrothal must have been something of a surprise.”

Loki scoffed, “An understatement if I ever heard one.” 

“Nonetheless,” Odin continued, “I wished to extend my…apologies, if my actions brought you any distress.” Loki was momentarily without word or breath. Never had his father offered anything resembling an apology. 

“I…well…”

Odin laughed, “My own son, the silver-tongued rogue himself, at a loss for words.” Loki was still unable to respond and Odin leaned forward in his great wooden chair, bewilderment in his old eyes. “It is that young girl, is it not, that has you so bewitched?” Loki raised his gaze to meet him and Odin shook his head with a smile, “I never thought I’d live to see the day.” 

“What day?” Loki finally spoke. 

“The day when my son, the eternal pessimist, would fall happy victim to a woman’s charms.”

“It is far more than her charms!” Loki objected, spiking Odin’s curiosity.

“Please,” he offered, “enlighten me.” 

Loki was unsure of what to say. What was it that drew him to Sigyn so passionately, that made his body blaze with fire and light? It was everything, every golden tendril, every soft crinkle when she laughed, every sparkle in her eye when she was casting her magic, every devilish smile when she played him as a fool. 

“The stars in the night fall short,” Loki’s voice was filled with life, “the sun shines dull in comparison. The galaxies with their swirling mists of endless light are nothing compared to the magic in her eyes. The gods and goddesses in their finery and glory are naught when she is near. She is light and life and liberating freedom, salvation and savior. That is why I say my prayers to Sigyn and no other. I would fall at her feet and offer my life, worship like a dog, if only for the promise that she would be mine and mine alone. She is my goddess, my sanctuary.” 

Each minute ticked past as Loki stood naked before the Allfather, his deepest dreams and desires exposed like glittering treasures on the floor. Odin would need only one step to crush them to dust, lay him low like he had as a child. Instead, the great king merely smiled and ran a hand along his grey beard.

“Just like your mother,” he chuckled. “All fire and passion. This,” he rose to his feet and moved toward Loki, “she seems to have passed on to you, along with her selective but fierce loyalty.” The king stood before him now, white hair and creased face, the mighty Gungnir glittering behind him. In a moment, his hand was on Loki’s shoulder, giving it a soft grip. “Are you happy, my son?” 

Loki’s heart heaved in his chest, tears threatening to pour down his face.

“Yes.” 

“That is all I want,” Odin smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	13. Chapter 13

Strangely enough, Sigyn found that Thor and his companions were incredibly interested in the planning of her nuptials, each for entirely different reasons. Thor insisted upon the finest musicians and most glamorous of décor, with Sif frequently reminding him of his less than tasteful selections. Volstagg, unsurprisingly, was inquiring constantly as to the preparations of the celebratory feast, while Fandral regarded the guest list with feverous intent. It was wise Hogun that brought up more logical concerns, such as security and housing for the many visiting nobles. 

She was entirely grateful for their contributions, as well as the fact that the Allfather and her grandfather had awarded her a considerable amount of choice. She would choose her own attendants, an item of her own selection for the feast, and a token to wear in honor of her Valkyrie heritage. Naturally, Sigyn gravitated to a more simplistic and elegant design for her bridal gown, but this choice was not hers. The Queen Mother had insisted upon taking up the responsibility, something for which Sigyn was eternally grateful. Her own mother had jumped on the idea to select her daughter’s wedding attire, but the queen’s status won without contest. 

Still, Sigyn grew tired of the constant preparations, more interested in her studies with the queen, her responsibilities in the healers’ room, and the time she spent with Loki. She had even agreed to training with Sif and Thor, the great man impressed by her unnatural speed. It was a relief to leave much of the fussing to others within the royal house. After an exhausting day tending to the wounded of Asgard’s front lines Sigyn slumped to her chambers, closing the door with a thud behind her. With complete disregard for her soiled gown, Sigyn flopped onto the plush bed and sank into the downy blankets. Before her head hit the soft fabric, she was already fast asleep.

~*~

She was in a strange place, a pantheon with great marble columns and...people, people scrambling everywhere. Screaming, fleeing as if their lives depended on it. It was all a blur, her eyes unable to adjust to the world within she walked. The people moved like a tumultuous sea, crashing and colliding as a storm of fear tore through them. What were they running from? They did not seem to see her, their bodies flowing and ebbing around her as she moved through them. 

Screaming face by screaming face, a rippling path between the crowds was revealed to her and she slid her bare feet along the marble floor. Something at the center of the room, that was the source of their terror, and Sigyn strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of it. It glowed with an unnatural light, a cold blue light, and Sigyn wanted to look away. She stopped short when she saw him.

Smooth, porcelain skin blotched with redness and fever. Sleek black hair tangled and snarled. Soft blue eyes poisoned with a vicious bloodlust. Even cloaked in such strange garments, Sigyn recognized his form. His beautiful face twisted with sickly madness, in his hand an angry weapon digging at the face of a thrashing man. Crimson blood splattered across his handsome face, matching the sinister smirk spreading from ear to ear. Sigyn couldn’t look and tore her face from the sight. 

She was beneath the stars, throngs of people running in every direction. Flashes of cold blue light everywhere. To the left, to the right, wreckage hurled through the air. His glimmering golden helm framing feverish eyes as he slammed a spear into the ground, screaming at the terrified masses. Like a great wave, the people knelt and Sigyn was left to stand among them, each of their petrified faces calling out, begging for help. Her feet felt cold against the stone ground, but nothing compared to the coldness in her heart, the aching emptiness as he held his weapon at a hunched old man and fired without mercy. Sigyn cried out, reaching for the man, when a figure leapt in. 

People fleeing everywhere as the masked man attacked him. Soon, another joined, swooping down from the sky in a blast of fire and light, armored head to toe. They forced him to his knees, strange weapons aimed at his head. Sigyn wanted to reach out to him, but tore her hand away.

Chaos, madness, ruin. A city engulfed in fire and smoke. Sigyn turned away.

She stood in a courtyard, surrounded by blissful trees and warm sunlight, and she felt relief. A group stood before her, men and a woman, and Thor. He was downtrodden, his face hanging in shame and distress as he brought forth a strange container. Cold blue light. Angry blue light. Another hand reached for it and her heart froze in her chest. Scarred, bloody, bruised, cut and slashed, bound in shackles, muzzled. No, no, no. It could not be. Crying out in anguish, Sigyn threw her hands over her eyes. Burning heat and blood dripping down her face. She screamed and screamed, the image of his face flashing across her vision. Stop, make it stop. 

Sigyn flew forward in her bed, letting out a desperate cry. Whimpering and moaning, she observed the charred sheets all around her, the smoke rising in sizzling streams, and brought her knees to her chest. Horrified, she raised a shaking hand to her face and hesitantly touched her eyes. No burning heat, no blood, but still she cried, tears replacing the phantom blood streams. She could see him, his twisted face, his clouded eyes, terrible blue light. No matter how hard she tried, Sigyn could not shake it from her mind. 

Forehead and back dripping with sweat, Sigyn sat curled in her bed, staring at the wall until the sun began to rise over the horizon. 

~*~

“Where is she?” Loki howled, tearing into the infirmary wing. The healers startled at his sudden arrival, falling silent as he glowered at them. “Do not make me repeat myself,” he growled.

“That is enough!” his mother’s voice rang through the room and he spun around. Frigga grabbed him by the hand, pulling him away from the healers as they scrambled about the room. “Do not interrogate them,” his mother scolded him, “They are simply doing their jobs.”

“Their jobs meaning not allowing me to see my betrothed?” Loki snapped and his mother turned on him, brown eyes growing fierce. 

“Sigyn is being cared for,” she glared down at him, “under my specific care and observation. Believe me when I say that I am doing everything possible to help her.” Loki suddenly felt small, chastised beneath his mother’s disappointed gaze. “I, too, love her dearly,” her face became soft. 

Loki folded into a chair, burying his face in his hands.

“What happened?” he mumbled, his hands shaking. “What happened to her?” His mother sat down beside him, gently rubbing her hand up and down his back.

“We’re not sure,” she sighed, her warm hand soothing his frayed nerves. “Her handmaiden found her this morning and her bed sheets were charred. She,” her hand hovered for a moment, “…she won’t speak.”

“What?” Loki gazed up at her, tears beginning to well in his eyes. His mother simply hung her head. 

“She only stares,” she explained. “At nothing at all, it seems. She won’t respond. Not to the healers, not to me, not to her grandfather. We’re not sure what happened to her.” Loki pressed his hands against his eyes, slamming them closed.

“I…I…” he rubbed at his eyes, halfheartedly hoping that somehow it would blot the image from his mind. Warm, soft hands wrapped around his shaking form as his mother drew him it. He leaned into her, allowing her to stroke his hair and rock him gently. “Mother…” he whimpered, “What do I do?” 

“I don’t know,” she responded. He stayed wrapped in her embrace, listening to the rhythmic humming of her breath.

“Can I…” he whispered into the crook of her arm. Slowly, she raised him up, running her thumb along his puffy eyes. She nodded and helped him to his feet, leading him to the door of the healing chamber. His hand was shaking, but he pushed the door open, only a crack, to slip through. Inside was stillness and quiet, the faint smell of cotton wrappings and ammonia wafting into his nose and stinging his eyes. This must have been how Sigyn felt when she came to him in the healers’ room. It only made him hurt more. 

She lay among the plush, white sheets, her golden curls stuck to the fevered sweat gleaming on her forehead. Reaching out, he brushed it from her face, shuttering at the burning heat emanated from her flushed skin. Her blue eyes shown grey and clouded as she stared at the foot of her bed, knees loosely clutched to her chest. 

“Sigyn?” he cupped her face. Still, she didn’t move. “Sigyn,” he wanted to cry. “Please, Sigyn, talk to me. Let me help you.” Still, she didn’t move and his hands fell, his head rolling forward as the tears began to flow. “Sigyn, please,” he whispered. “I know we are not yet wed. I know that I am not yet your husband…but I swear to you. I swear that I will protect you, support you, and defend you to my dying breath. I will use every ounce of my power to keep you safe. Please,” the tears were streaming down his face, leaving a tiny puddle between his boots, “Sigyn…please…”

All around the healers rushed and worked, but they were like ghosts to him as Loki sat beside her, limp hand clutched in his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that many of my details do not match with Norse legend or Marvel plots, but it is a story for pure selfish enjoyment only and I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	14. Chapter 14

His face felt stiff and stained with tears as he pulled it from the sheets of her bed. Neck sore, legs numb, Loki wiped at his eyes. Her hand still lay loosely in his, flat and lifeless as she stared hazily down at the bed; she had not moved. Feebly, he rose to his feet, leaning forward in his chair to brush the stray locks from her face. She did not flinch, even as he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her cheek. The fever had broken, her skin no longer burning with heat, but she had not improved beyond that. A knife to his heart, Loki reached for her face, rubbing his fingers along her ear and neck. He placed one final kiss on her forehead before turning to the door. He had not eaten in days and he would need sustenance to remain by her side.

“Blue…light…”

Loki froze in his tracks halfway to the door. Turning slowly, he gazed in horrified hope at Sigyn’s hunched body. She had not moved; perhaps he had only imagined it, but her lips parted ever so slightly to speak the words again.

“Blue…light…”

Loki flew to her side, tossing aside the chair and kneeling beside her bed as he took her hand in his. 

“Sigyn?” he smiled, tear stained face wet once more. There was a flickering in her grey eyes, a flash of light. Like a miracle, she raised her head. 

“Blue…light…” she murmured, her brows softly furrowed. 

“Sigyn, what is it?” Loki smoothed out her hair. “Tell me, please.” Her breath had become regular, her face twitching with faint signs of life, and Loki filled with energy. He raced to the doors and threw them open, shouting at the healers to come quickly. In a moment, he was back at her side, the light in her eyes growing bit by bit. “Sigyn,” he whispered. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

The healers had rushed into the room, bringing with bowls of water and vials of medicine, but Loki hardly noticed them. He looked only to Sigyn as her eyes fluttered to meet his. When they met, Sigyn’s eyes swelled, the faintest reaction, but she recognized him. He knew it to be true.

“Sigyn,” he smiled, reaching for her face.

“You,” she stared at him and his hand froze, “…you were there. It was you.” 

“What?” he begged. “Sigyn, please, tell me what’s wrong!” 

Her eyes wavered for a moment, falling from his gaze and Loki feared the worst. Slowly, she looked to him once more.

“Loki?”

His heart pounded with joy, “Yes!” He took her face in his hand, “Yes, it’s me, Sigyn. It’s Loki.” 

“Loki,” her fingers trembled near his chin, finally coming to rest on the smooth skin. Loki pressed his face against her touch. 

“Sigyn,” he whispered, laying his hand over hers. “I thought I had lost you.” 

“It was you,” her voice suddenly grew strong, filled with a hint of the fire he had once known, but when he looked to her eyes he saw within a frantic, crazed, hasty flame roaring to life. Something was wrong. “It was you!” she snatched her hand from his face, her eyes swelling with terror as her chest heaved and shook. “It was you!” she howled, gasping for desperate breath, and Loki scrambled to his feet. 

“What?” Loki pleaded. “What are you talking about? Sigyn, please!” 

“You!” she screamed, not even looking at him anymore. Her eyes twitched as she shook her head viciously in harsh jerks. He worried she would soon snap her own neck.

He reached to calm her, “Sigyn -”

“You!” she shrieked, rocking wildly in her bed. “People screaming all around! And you…” she glanced up at him, “you are there at the center, bleeding man beneath your hand. You howl into the crowds – blue light, blue light – sick smile on your face. You are sick, so sick, not yourself.” She wrapped her arms around her legs, drawing them near as she rocked and shook. “I try to call out to you, stop you, bring you back – stop you, stop you – but my voice will not come.”

“Sigyn -” he tried again to reach her.

“There is a man!” she cried, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes and feverish face, “cloaked in ivory and blue with a star upon his chest. You clash with him, blade against shield. Armored head to toe in crimson and gold, he lays you low,” her eyes found him once more, a flash of concern buried beneath burning madness, “and you do not rise!”

The room had frozen in terrified horror to hear her crazed words, every healer and servant staring at Sigyn in fearful shock, but Loki felt no fear. Only sorrow, sickening sorrow as he watched Sigyn rock back and forth. 

“Blue light, blue light...” she whispered, tears streaming down her face, “angry, terrible, horrible blue light. Blue light…” Suddenly, his mother had swept into the room, a swarm of head healers moving with her to surround Sigyn’s bed. At once, they grabbed her arms and legs, and Sigyn was reeling again. “No, no, no!” she screamed as they pinned her down, his mother coming forth with a syringe. She instructed the healers to hold her steady as she pressed the needle into Sigyn’s neck. She screamed, thrashing and lurching against their hold.

Loki lunged forward, his heart burning with white hot rage as the needle buried into Sigyn’s soft skin, screams pouring out her mouth. Firm arms wrapped around him, holding him back and pulling him forcibly away from Sigyn’s bed. 

“No!” he howled, “No, no!” He kicked and thrashed as he was dragged away from her, her body falling still as the great golden doors closed in front of him. “NO!” 

Loki dropped to the hard ground, lashing out at the one who had ripped him away. Scrambling to his feet, he threw himself against the doors, pounding and shouting until his voice grew hoarse. Eventually, he let his fist rest defeated against the cold metal. A firm hand grasped his shaking shoulder and Loki spun around wildly, drawing a blade to his hand and slicing at the intruder. A tiny splash of blood splattered across the wall as Thor took a step back, eyes pinched in worry at the sight of his brother’s snarling face. 

Sif and the Warriors Three stood off at a safe distance, watching as Loki’s shoulders shook with each enraged breath. Thor reached for Loki once more, but Loki threw off his arm and tore away, stumbling into the hallway. Out of their sight, he was no longer able to hold it in. Loki crumbled against the wall, tears burning at his eyes as he fumbled to his back, sliding slowly down until he slammed into the cold floor.

Her terrified face tormented him, the fever in her eyes, the crazed fire in her voice. It was not her, not Sigyn. She had been all but gone then as she screamed and shook, only a moment of sanity as she had stared up at him. Begging, pleading, crying out for help. He wanted to help her. He should have helped her. Loki buried his face in his arms, letting his weight fall atop his knees. She was so scared, scared of him. He dug his teeth into the flesh of his arm, tear soaked sleeve salty against his tongue. 

A presence appeared beside him, bright and glowing.

“Brother,” Thor’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. Loki could not raise his head. 

“Why?” he mumbled into the fabric of his sleeve. “Why did you take me from her?” 

Thor sighed, “I did not wish it, brother. Mother, she insisted. She worried Sigyn would hurt herself. She said you were affecting Sigyn, drawing out a poisonous reaction.” 

Loki’s breath drew in with raged, forced stutter, his shoulders shaking as he buried his tears. 

“Me,” he whispered, her fear-stricken eyes flashing across his vision, bringing a renewed sorrow. A heavy arm wrapped around his shoulders as Thor gripped his brother’s shaking body. 

“It was me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that many of my details do not match with Norse legend or Marvel plots, but it is a story for pure selfish enjoyment only and I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires.
> 
> I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay. Finals can be rough. More to come soon.

Sigyn’s treatment was intensive and Frigga was directly involved with every aspect, exhibiting thorough concern for her future daughter-in-law. The queen was present in the healing room nearly every day, monitoring the young lady’s vitals and personally administering medication. All the while, Sigyn either stared at the wall or stared at the ceiling, but she never moved. She wasn’t getting worse, but she wasn’t necessarily improving either. This was what worried Loki the most. Still, every day, he would visit her, sit by her side, and hold her hand, whatever he could. 

Loki placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, brushing away her soft curls and giving her hand a tight squeeze. It was late, far past sundown. The sun would be rising in only a few hours. He didn’t want to leave her and had requested a bed alongside her in the infirmary, but his mother had refused. 

“You need sleep, as well,” she had said. “Go. I will look after her.” 

Now, he stood before his bed, the blankets, sheets, and pillows untouched for months, each night spent in a chair at Sigyn’s side. Every bone in his body ached, every joint was stiff with tension, every nerve fried and burning from exhaustion. The plush bed called to him, drawing him in with a hypnotic force. His knees gave out and Loki fell through the air, colliding with the blankets, but he was fast asleep before his head hit the pillow. 

Glittering night skies, clear and swirling with stars. He was laying on his back in the grass, the silky foliage tickling his ears and fingertips. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful. He closed his eyes and listened to the whispers of wind as they sang and cooed, taking deep breaths of cool night air. Suddenly, there was a soft warmth at his side and gentle fingers laced between his. He rolled his head to look and saw her smiling at him with cool blue eyes, her flaxen curls spilled out around her in the grass. Smiling, he happily closed his eyes and laid with her in the grass, wrapping his hand around hers.

“Just close your eyes,” she whispered. “I’ll never let you go.” He smiled and squeezed her hand tightly. As his fingers loosened, her hand slipped from his. Brows furrowed, Loki was about to open his eyes when he felt the warmth ripped from the air. His eyes flashed open. No longer were there glittering night skies. Now, he saw only endless darkness, a starless abyss, and all around vicious towering stone spikes. He rose to his elbows, looking for her, but she was nowhere to be found. His heart began to race, frantically scanning the strange surrounds for her. He froze at the sight of a cold blue light flashing behind him. Slowly, he turned around. 

His vision swam when he saw her. Strung up by her neck, desperately clawing at the hand about her throat, her bare feet barely inches from the ground, enough so that her toes brushed across the harsh rocks below. The world tipped and tilted as he leaned against a stone spike for support. Eyes swelling, he stumbled forward, trying to shake the fear from his heart at the faint blue light glowing around every corner. 

A dark voice, a cruel voice, echoed all around and he clawed at his ears, but his eyes never left her. Tears were streaming down her face and he could feel them beginning to trail down his own as he grew closer. Everything else was a blur, but she was clear, every grimace and every flinch painfully vibrant. The voice spoke to him, cold blue light surging with each word. 

_You love her,_ it said and he could only nod. _You would save her?_ He nodded again, more fervently. She squirmed in its grasp, terrified, red-rimmed eyes looking down at him. _You will do as I say?_ Looking to her, he knew it to be true. He would do anything to save her, to free her, to be with her again. For a moment, though, she looked at him as if to deter his decision, as if begging him to run, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t leave her. The voice waited and he nodded once more. Blue light flashed and erupted all around them, sharp spears of light circling him faster and faster. One by one, they collided with his chest, piercing through him, through his mind, through his soul. With each blade he was shredded from his mind and crumbled to the ground. 

A darkness spread through him, an unnatural cold, and soon he was on his back once more. Perhaps it was a mirage. Perhaps he had imagined it all. Perhaps her hand was still in his. Slowly, he gripped his fingers, hoping desperately for the feeling of hers. Instead, he felt something smooth, something cold. When he opened his eyes he saw it in his hand, an angry thing, sharp and radiating cruel blue light. 

Loki flew forward in his bed, dagger in his hand as he woke from his nightmare. Sweat dripped down his forehead and he suddenly felt near passing out. Tossing his dagger aside, he stripped off his tunic and threw it to the floor in disgust, running his shaking hands through his hair. Why? Why would his mind create such torment? Sigyn already lay broken in the infirmary. Why torture him further with such agonizing visions? But he could not shake the image: Sigyn gasping for breath and that horrible blue light, the light she had raved about. Could it be the same one? 

He shook his head and flopped back into the pillows. Mirage or not, Loki had not lied. He did love Sigyn and he would do anything to keep her from harm. That much had been true. He would do anything, say anything, make any deal, sign away his soul if it meant she would be safe. He couldn’t lose her, not now, not ever. He wanted to go to her, run to the infirmary and sit at her side, but he knew his mother would disapprove. She was right; he needed rest. Sleep deprivation, stress, fear, it had all driven him to these hallucinations. Tomorrow he would go to Sigyn. He would stroke her hair, kiss her hand and head, talk to her, read to her, sing to her, whatever he could to bring her back. Tomorrow he would. For now, he needed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I apologize for the delay. The holidays grow near, but more chapters will come soon.

Loki did not sleep well. He attempted to smooth his hair as he walked to the infirmary, refastening the clasp at his neck as a pair of healers rushed past. They chatted and whispered between them, their voices ringing in his ears as he hurried away. The voice, he could hear it. Every day it came, slow and quiet, growing in audacity with each sunset, and every day he would go to Sigyn’s side, trying to drown it out with the gentle sound of her breathing. Another group of young handmaidens swooped around the corner and collided with him. Their voices swelled and shrieked, ringing in his ears, rattling in his head, the dark voice growling from below. He couldn’t take it. 

“Enough!” he snapped, his voice echoing through the palace halls, and the young girls fell silent. One dropped her urn and the ceramic shattered on the marble floor. Immediately, he regretted his outburst as each young girl looked at him in horror and fear. Unable to recover Loki fled the hallway, leaving the girls in a stunned and frightened silence as the spilled wine crawled across the floor. Quietly, he slipped through the infirmary doors. Eyes slammed closed, he leaned against the inside of the door, forcing slow, deep breaths as he calmed his mind. 

“Loki?” His eyes flashed open and landed on his mother who stood on the other side of the room, dunking a rag into a bowl of water. The healers all stared at him, his frazzled appearance and frantic eyes. Quickly, he stood and smoothed his clothes before walking to his mother. “What’s wrong, my son?” she asked, setting aside the wet rag and drying her hands on her apron before clasping his. “You are burning up,” she said and her face twisted with concern as she placed a hand on his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he waved her off. “How is she?” His mother didn’t seem entirely convinced, but she let it go and returned to her table. 

“She has improved,” she reported and Loki’s heart fluttered. “Don’t get too excited. Her fever has broken, but she only wakes for a few hours each day.” 

“Is there anything more can be done?” he implored.

She shook her head and sighed, “At this point, no. We will continue her treatment, but it falls to her, now. She must fight this infection.”

“Do we know what it is?” Loki asked. “Her affliction? You said an infection.”

“It is not uncommon among seers,” she responded, her eyes growing heavy, “to experience plagues of the mind. It is difficult to handle such power and Sigyn holds a great power within her. I saw it in her as a child and I always knew she may either suffer or soar. To hold such a power,” Frigga rested her hands on the table and hung her head, “it is incredible. She is so strong.” 

“I always knew that,” he murmured. “May I see her?” 

“Not now, my son,” Frigga said and Loki was crushed. “I’m sorry, but she is too fragile right now. Last night was hard on her.”

“Last night?” Loki perked up. Perhaps, just perhaps. 

“More nightvisions,” his mother explained. “She was particularly frantic. She…” her voice trailed off. 

“What?” Loki insisted. “Mother, tell me.”

She looked up at him, a mixture of joy and sadness in her eyes, “She called out for you.” Loki’s heart skipped, half elated and half horrified. Perhaps they had experienced the same visions. Perhaps there was a way to reach her. 

That night, Loki was eager for sleep, eager for the dreams and the voice in the darkness. Laying back into his pillows, he folded his hands over his chest and settled in, a small smirk creeping across his lips. With a flick of his fingers, he fell asleep. 

The same plain, angry stone spikes tearing through ink black skies. Immediately, he was on edge, scanning the surroundings for her. She was nowhere to be see and the voice had not yet spoken. He explored the area, but only the ground near him could truly be seen. Beyond a few feet, it all turned to blurs and smudges. There. His head snapped to the side and he spotted the blue light, a faint glow from behind a stone tower. Reaching down, a dagger materialized in his hand and he smirked. He crept forward, hugging the stone spire as he stalked the blue light. He lost it a few times, but found it soon enough. Finally, he cornered it at the edge of the plain, the stone crumbling away to nothingness, and he gripped his dagger. 

Leaping from his hiding place, he readied for an attack, but the light had disappeared, leaving him a fool at the edge of the plain. Uneasy, he drew his dagger up and glanced over his shoulders. From nowhere, a massive chunk of screeching metal tore through the air and swooped over his head. He ducked and narrowly missed it before it went shrieking by, disappearing like a stone in a pool, blue ripples expanding in the dark sky. He hesitantly rose to his feet, but another came flying past. Quickly, he scanned it before it, too, disappeared. A ship, he thought. A ship of some kind. Crude and rough, but a ship, nonetheless, no more than fifty feet long and made of metal. 

Suddenly, the sky was torn open and metal was flying all around, appearing from rippling blue portals and disappearing out others. Winds howled and the air was filled with crashing and whirring, metal ships large and small colliding in bursts of fire and light. Through the portals he could see towers, great metal towers burning and shattering. Flashes of blue sky. Another plain. They became clearer and he could soon see that the ships were flying through the blue skies, firing and destroying the city. People screamed, fires raged, buildings crumbled. Destruction, chaos, death. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

Voice. Not the voice in the darkness. Her voice. It was quiet, faint, barely anything over the sound of the destruction, but he locked onto it. She was nowhere; he was the only being in this plain. Struck with horrified realization, he looked up to the portals. Fires and madness in most, but one…one held her. She floated as if suspended in water, her sleeves and skirts gently rippling inside the portal, her curls surrounding her face. 

He sprinted toward her, but stopped dead in his tracks as she started to cough and gasp for air as she clawed at her throat. That’s when he saw it, the near-invisible hand wrapped around her neck, choking her from the shadows. He didn’t know what to do. Each step toward her only threatened her more, but he couldn’t let her suffer. He couldn’t.

“What do you want from me?!” he howled into the abyss. As if listening, the chaos around him slowed to a halt, the wreckage slowly spinning through the air and the flames flickering at half-speed. 

_Let me in._

Loki’s eyes flew open, his heart racing and his lungs sucking down air. Above him was the dark canopy of his bed, green velvet framing him on every side save one. The curtain to his right hung ragged and torn, a clean slice through the thick fabric from where he’d lashed out in his sleep. The dagger still lay in his hand, clenched tightly in his shaking fist, but all he could see was her face, red and splotched and gasping for breath, her eyes glazing over with oncoming oblivion. He slammed his eyes shut and shook the image from his mind. Then he heard the words again – Let me in. It sent a shiver down his spine and forced him from his bed. Air, he needed air. 

Striding over to his balcony, Loki threw open the curtains and stumbled back onto the floor as the light came pouring in orange and red. Sunset. Had he slept all day? The dream had seemed so short. He quickly threw on a tunic and trousers, tugging on boots and digging through his bookshelf for rag to wipe his sweaty face. It was buried beneath a stack of tomes and he ripped it free, sending an avalanche of books flying to the floor. One tumbled to his feet, a lavender bound journal with silky pages from which a single orange blossom fluttered free. Loki was shocked at first, but he quickly dropped his rag and scooped up the precious artifact, carefully replacing the delicate blossom to its protective home. He smoothed the cover, running his fingers along the soft binding, before gently placing it in the center of his desk. 

Loki peeked his head out the doors of his chamber before quietly sneaking into the hall. There were no servants in sight, only the soft rays of golden light seeping through the gossamer curtains as he adjusted his cloak. Dinner was already in full swing, but he doubted that his presence had been missed. At this point, he could still slip in relatively unseen and not have to deal with any scornful eyes. If his mother asked he would simply say that he had been in the library. 

As careful as he had been to choose the least-used hallways, the hidden doors, the back entrances, he still entered the banquet hall and was swarmed by his brother in moments.

“Loki!” Thor boomed, and he cringed at the echoing in his skull, “Where have you been? We’ve almost finished and you missed the lemon cakes. They were superb!” Loki barely heard his brother’s ranting. The voice had returned, a dark whisper threatening to overthrow his mind. All around, the lights of the banquet hall swirled and raged, the floor pitched beneath his feet and a piercing shiver ran down his spine, all the while an intense heat burning his face and neck. And Thor would not relent. His thick arms only mirrored the stifling sensation about Loki’s throat and he wanted nothing more than to flee into the darkness of dusk. 

Blue light flashed in the corners of his eyes, but each time Loki searched them out they were gone, teasing him, taunting him, driving him mad. Loki pressed his nails into his temples and pressed his eyes shut. He could feel himself shaking.

“Brother?” Thor’s voice roared in his ear. “Brother, are you alright?” 

“The poor sap is sweating like a sow!” Fandral shrieked. “Perhaps he’s finally lost it for good!”

Blue light, flashing, piercing, voices in his mind, clawing, poisonous. 

“It can’t be dinner remorse,” Volstagg chimed in. “The poor boy hasn’t eaten a thing.”

“You’d know all about that now, wouldn’t you, my rotund friend!” Fandral cackled. 

“Thor,” Sif’s voice was hesitant, watchful, as Loki clawed at his scalp. Voices, voices, blue light, voices. The world seemed to twist and mutate before his eyes. He wanted to vomit.

“ENOUGH!” Loki howled, the voice fleeing into nothingness and leaving a wake of stunned silence behind. Every face within a thirty foot range was gazing at him with either disgust or suspicion, Thor’s companions having even taken a few steps back. Thor, though, had not moved, but only dropped his hand from Loki’s shoulder to look at his brother with anxious concern. 

“Brother?” Thor reached for Loki once more, but Loki couldn’t take the eyes, every pair looking at him like he was mad. Was he mad? Glancing up at his brother’s concerned face, Loki dashed out the back entrance through a servants’ door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	17. Chapter 17

Loki didn’t leave his room for days, perhaps it had been weeks. He couldn’t be sure. His mother had visited him each day, bringing with a fresh tray of food and news on Sigyn. During the first few visits Frigga would find him at his desk, having stayed up through the night with his nose in book after book, reading and researching a cure for Sigyn’s ailment. He would stutter to consciousness as his mother placed a gentle hand on his back, assuring her that he had only dozed off, to which she would reply,

“Of course,” with a knowing wink. Now, she stood at his side, rifling through his shelves of books as he flipped through yet another tome on illnesses of the mind. “We’ve missed you at dinner,” she said, handing him the book he had been reaching for. “Thor has been unrelenting in his insistence. I’ve done everything I can to keep him from barging up here and kicking down your door.” Loki huffed with a smirk as he tossed away another useless book. His mother sighed and picked it up off the floor, placing it atop the pile on his desk. “And your father has asked that you try to attend at least one war council.”

“I’ve no interest in military campaigns,” he mumbled as he wrote down a small scrawl on the clearing effects of featherfew and mistletoe. Perhaps he’d hang some by her bed.

“Be that as it may,” his mother gently took the quill from his hand, “it would be good for you to venture beyond this room and the infirmary.” Loki let her stay his hand for the moment as he stared down at his hasty notes. “She would want you to.” The tiny orange blossom lay at the windowsill alongside its pressed twin, soft petals glowing in the sunlight. “Take a walk with me, my son,” Queen Frigga grasped his hand and gently pulled him to his feet. 

They strolled through the palace’s more solitary halls, Frigga’s arm laced through Loki’s. She seemed more pleased with this than Loki’s previous hermitage and he thought it decent to allow her at least this small kindness. As distracted as he was, he did want to please his mother and he enjoyed seeing her smile as she did now. 

“She will improve, my dear,” Frigga patted his arm as they turned the corner, warm light pouring in through tall arched windows. “I have no doubt. And, once she is well, we will have the most glorious of weddings.”

“Mother,” Loki shook his head.

“Come now, Loki,” she squeezed his arm. “After everything the two of you have been through, you deserve as much.” A smile found its way onto his lips and his mother gripped him tighter, smiling back as they made their way out to the garden. They sat together on a small bench in front of the glittering pond and Loki leaned forward on his elbows, resting his head in his hands. His mind was in tatters, every fragment stretched and shredded to its last end. A warm hand rubbed slow circles on his back. 

“I just want her back,” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair. “I just want her to be safe, to be healthy, to be…” He couldn’t form the words. Nothing seemed to convey how desperate he was to have Sigyn back in his arms, to be back at her side. 

“I know, my son,” Frigga replied, “and you will be together again soon. I can feel it. This, too, will pass. You need only be patient.”

“That’s what worries me,” he threw his hands down. “I don’t know how much more I can take. It’s maddening. I feel tired. So tired. I want to sleep. I want it so bad, but I just can’t. Every time I close my eyes I see her and I hear…” He stopped. He was not yet sure that he should reveal his nightmares to his mother, lest he cause her more senseless worrying. 

“I know, Loki,” she clasped his shoulders and held him close. “It is a cruel form of torment to have one’s love threatened in such a way, but she will recover. Sigyn is strong and stubborn. She will not let this pointless ailment beat her. Besides, she has yet to finish her studies and we both know that she will never retire until that is complete.” For the first time in what seemed like ages, Loki laughed. He laughed hard and long, tears welling in his eyes as his mother laughed with him. “There is my son,” she smiled, raising him to his feet. “My dear boy, how you have transformed. Look at you,” she held him at arm’s length so as to admire him, “You are a young man. It’s that lovely lady, isn’t it?” she smirked, cupping his face. “She is a gem, Loki, and I am so happy for you two.” 

“It is a strange feeling,” he led her to the palace doors, “to want to start your life so quickly, but after I found her, well I can’t seem to imagine anything else.” 

“That is love, my son,” Frigga smiled, “and I am so happy that you’ve found it. Never let it go.”

“I don’t plan to,” he responded resolutely. 

For the time being, his walk with his mother had cleared his mind, but the comfort was fleeting. He had been hopeful when he laid to rest in his bed that night and the nights after, but each sundown brought with it increasingly more torturous nightmares, each one painfully vivid with images of Sigyn and a horrible blue light. Weeks past, months, and still Sigyn didn’t improve. Slowly, Asgard forgot about her and their suffering second prince, instead turning their attention to the next glittering affair - Thor’s coronation. 

Loki stormed through the palace halls, servants scuttling from his path. They were all fools, selfish and arrogant, filling their heads with pointless gossip and chatter. The nobles were no better, all swooning over Thor and his oncoming kingship. All the while Sigyn still lay in the infirmary, mind battling body and soul strung between, torn to shreds. His Sigyn. How quickly the mindless masses shifted their joy. Wedding, coronation. It seemed they didn’t care the occasion, just the neverending flow of mead and wine. 

He heard their whispers, the quiet rumors hidden behind hands and corners. They thought him mad. They said his mind was wasting away, stretched thin by his fiancé’s illness. Ergi, they whispered. What did he care? They didn’t matter. None of them mattered. Simpletons, fools. All of them. 

“My prince!” the servant shouted, chasing after Loki. He turned on him, eyes glaring, and the man stumbled back. 

“Use your words, good sir,” Loki spat. “I’m not a patient man.”

“It is the queen, my prince,” the servant stuttered.

“Yes, what about her?” Loki insisted.

“She requests your presence,” he explained. “In the infirmary.” Loki’s heart raced, his ears perked. 

“For what purpose?” he demanded. 

“It is the Lady Sigyn,” the servant said. “She is awake.” The man was thrown into the wall as Loki flew down the hallway, cloak billowing out as he began to run. Awake. She was awake and Loki couldn’t move fast enough. Those in the hall moved before he ran them clean over. They hugged the walls, fell into corners, anything to get out of his way. It took far too long to reach the infirmary, but once he did Loki threw open the doors, looking for her face. Instead, he found the head healer.

“Where is she?” he begged.

“She’s just through here,” the lady pointed to the far doors and Loki dashed forward, throwing himself through the barricade. The room was small with a domed ceiling reaching overhead and a warm fire crackling in the hearth, but most importantly was the bed, the bed where Sigyn now sat forward, her thick curls resting against plush pillows and her eyes open. Loki couldn’t speak, not even as a dozen healers whirred around him, not even as his mother approached. 

“Loki,” she whispered, laying a hand on his arm. He ignored her and slowly began to take a few steps forward. She looked so pale, but her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, dark circles lining the soft skin. Tired, just like him. She looked so tired. Finally, Loki was at her side and close enough to touch her. He needed to touch her. Just once, to know that she was real. He couldn’t know, but his mother had cleared the room, servants quietly sneaking out to give the two betrothed a moment of privacy. His mother closed the door behind her and soon it was only Loki and Sigyn. 

Finally, he allowed himself to touch her hand. Soft, slender fingers, smooth and familiar. He smiled, looking up at her eyes. She stared at the wall ahead, much like before, but she seemed much more herself. There was a life there that he’d thought was gone forever, but no. She was here. His Sigyn was here.

“Sigyn?” he whispered, cautiously reaching for her face. Slowly, she turned to face him and his heart swelled. She smiled. She had smiled at him. “Sigyn!” he couldn’t help but sigh with relief. “Sigyn, I was so worried.” 

Her brows furrowed, a saddened expression on her face as she reached for his face. When her fingers touched his burning skin, Loki melted. A comforting cool washed over him as she ran her hand down his jaw, a faint smile spreading on her lips once more. He laid his hand on hers, pressing her soft palm against his cheek and closing his eyes. Her fingers wrapped around his hand and pulled it toward her face, gently placing a sweet kiss on his pale skin. 

He jumped from his seat and wrapped his arms around her thin frame, burying his nose into her silky curls. Slowly and carefully, her arms encircled him and she stroked his head, nestling her cheek into his black locks. Loki could have stayed there forever, for all eternity. He had never felt such peace. He could care less what his mother said or what anyone said. He would never leave her side, not until she was fully recovered. He’d sleep on the floor if he had to. 

Much to his dismay, Sigyn began to pull away. Her chest fell and rose with a hitch, her breath becoming slightly uneven, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Loki scrambled to his feet and returned with a goblet of water. Holding it out to her, Sigyn smiled and let Loki bring it to her mouth. She gleefully sucked down the crisp liquid and smiled up at him.

“Is that better?” he asked and she nodded. 

The next days were heavenly. Loki spent every possible moment with Sigyn, bringing her lunch, tea, books and parchment, reading to her, he even had a small harpsichord brought in so he could play music for her. She seemed to like that, but she loved it most when he read to her, especially the stories of the light elves of Álfheim. Those were her favorites and the old history tome was soon worn and bent with the many readings. Still, he read to her, sometimes from the legends and sometimes from his own journals. He thought it was silly at first, but soon she requested his writings, in a way. Mostly she would reach for the tiny leather journal and pull it from the stack of books. Smiling, she would place it in his hands and snuggle into her pillows. 

Spending time with Sigyn was the only thing keeping him sane. Every moment spent away opened the floodgates for hallucinations, nightmares, and tormenting whispers. The voice, it followed him everywhere and the blue light appeared whenever he closed his eyes. Loki began to fray. It was those infernal people, squealing and chattering over Thor’s coronation. They didn’t care that Sigyn hadn’t said a word in months. They didn’t care that she’d wasted away to near skin and bone. All they cared about was another feast, another night of empty debauchery. It made him sick. Even Thor had seemed to forget about Sigyn. He hadn’t seen his brother in weeks. 

It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that held any importance was Sigyn’s recovery. Loki spent hours in the library combing the information in every book and scroll. On the nights when he didn’t fall asleep at Sigyn’s side, he fell asleep at a desk in the library, the pages of a spell book pressed against his cheek. That is, when he did sleep. He avoided it at all costs now, the nightmares draining him rather than him gaining any rest from slumber. A blue light and that voice. Let me in. What could it mean? The worst nightmares were filled with Sigyn, her pleading eyes and gasping breath. One night the visions were cruel enough to show her eerily still, eyes glazed over with lifeless gleam. He had woken screaming. 

There was another night, though, that left Loki with a far clearer mind. Jotuns. He’d seen them before in the childhood storybooks his mother had read to him. When they appeared in his dreams, Loki found an enticing idea. When he saw a silver-winged helm tumbling to the ground, he had a glorious idea. It wouldn’t take much. A slight twisting of space, nothing more, and he’d have his revenge against the foolish people of Asgard. Yes, Thor would be upset, but Loki was sure that his brother would relish the chance to battle such creatures on his day of triumph. It would only further present him as the warrior king he wished to be. 

As the coronation grew near, Loki distanced himself from the outside world, opting to spend every moment by Sigyn’s side. She had improved greatly in the last weeks, but still had not spoken a word, save the three most wonderful words he’d ever heard. She said it every night, quietly, hushed as if she did not yet know her own voice, but she said it nonetheless. 

“I love you.” 

Each time Loki’s heart skipped and he kissed her over and over. It only fueled his rage. His love, his Sigyn was lying in the infirmary and not a soul seemed to care. He would make them care. He would make them pay attention. Loki was angry and they would listen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. At least, for this part. Part Two will be coming soon.

Everything felt heavy, like she hadn’t moved in years. For a while, she couldn’t open her eyes, they were so thick with sleep. Her joints creaked and moaned as she shifted in her bed and far above was a golden domed ceiling, the furthest heights of the infirmary. For the first time in months, Sigyn saw clearly. The hazy blur that had eaten away at her vision for so long had finally fled and the dark recesses of her mind no longer pounded with echoing pain. Everything was so clear. 

Breathing was like forcing air through waterlogged lungs, but eventually she was able to lean up on her elbows and observe her surroundings. The infirmary room was empty, the healers undoubtedly taking a well-deserved respite after tending to her for so many days and nights, but Sigyn was a bit surprised to see not a single soul. She figured at least one would stay behind to keep an eye on her. If not the queen than one of the lower level healers. 

There was a heavy weight on her chest as if a massive boulder rested on her and Sigyn shakily reached for the water at her side. She gulped it down, grateful for the cooling liquid on her sore throat. Replacing it to the side table, Sigyn spotted Loki’s pile of books and the small harpsichord and smiled, but for some reason she could not shake the weight in her chest. It was a grinding pain, spackled with sharp pinches of pain. Not enough to incapacitate her, but enough to draw her attention. Something was wrong. 

Slowly, Sigyn swung her legs to the edge of the bed, feeling the smooth floor beneath her bare feet. It was strange to feel hard ground after so long in bed, but Sigyn relished the sensation of rising to her feet. Her legs wobbled at first, but she leaned on the bedpost and then the walls for support. They guided her to the door and she struggled to crack it open. The rest of the infirmary was empty, as well, not a healer or servant to be seen, and Sigyn couldn’t ignore the unnatural silence. There should be something, voices, footsteps, anything, but Sigyn didn’t hear a thing.

The outer hall was no improvement, empty corridors and sheer curtains floating in the delicate breeze. As Sigyn wandered the halls, she found that most of the palace was abandoned and she rubbed at her chest plate, the aching pain inside urging her on. Outside the windows, Sigyn caught a trailing voice far across the city. Strange. Asgard seemed different, numb. Something had happened. She continued her mindless wandering, turning corners and descending staircases until she came to the garden balcony. From here she could see near all of Asgard, its glittering towers, its glowing peaks, and even the Bifrost. 

The Bifrost. It was hurt.

She had learned long ago that her gifts as a seer heightened her senses, but more importantly they allowed her to see into those things around her, to see beyond the surface and superficial. It was how she knew that the Bifrost was injured. It’s vivid myriad of colors, normally twisting and flowing in smooth streams, now crackled and sparked and every few moments the light died altogether, dark patches of blackness spotting the Bifrost. It was in pain. Sigyn followed its path from the city center out to the far reaches of the oceans, and felt the air freeze in her lungs at what she found.

Himinbjörg, Heimdall’s post, the great golden dome…was gone. The horizon seemed broken and empty without the Bifrost gate, the rainbow bridge falling to shattered ruins over the edge of the city. That was the source of the Bifrost’s pain and it radiated out in streaks of empty darkness, spider webbing across the beautiful colors as they fought for survival. The aching pain in her chest roared to life and she clung to the railing for support. Something was wrong, very wrong. Sigyn raced down the stairs, her feet carrying her through the halls and across courtyards to the only person she knew would have answers. 

The guard at the queen’s door seemed shocked at Sigyn’s arrival, and perhaps more so at her inappropriate appearance, but he opened the doors for her as Sigyn attempted to walk calmly inside. The queen’s chambers had become a warm and welcoming sanctuary for Sigyn over the last few years, their beautifully papered walls, delicate tapestries, and plush chaises a retreat from the chaos of the palace, but now the walls shone dim and dull, the lights grey and washed as Sigyn entered in. At first she did not see the queen sitting quietly with her back to the door. She was in her favorite chair, facing out to look at the city skyline through her balcony widows. Sigyn held back a few feet, waiting for the queen to acknowledge her.

Minutes passed and the queen did not move. She only stared out the window, looking to the horizon. Sigyn followed her gaze and found the shattered Bifrost and the weight in her chest pressed on her lungs. She could see just a glimpse of the queen’s face, the sadness there. She was not herself and Sigyn was scared.

“Mother?” Sigyn barely recognized her own voice, but the queen slowly turned her head to look. Her heart burned when she saw the suffering, the pain, and the hallow aching painted across the queen’s face. “What happened?” Sigyn whispered, taking a few steps forward. She didn’t know why, but her heart was breaking with each step. The queen rose to her feet and stood before Sigyn, taking her weak hands in her own. They stood in silence together, Sigyn waiting for the queen to compose herself. 

“While you were healing,” she finally said, squeezing Sigyn’s hands every few moments, “The Allfather fell into the Odinsleep.”

“Is he well?” Sigyn interrupted, worried that the great king had suffered injury. Frigga nodded her head with a weary smile.

“Yes,” she assured her, gathering her breath before continuing, “but Thor was banished.”

“Banished?” Sigyn gasped, thinking of Asgard’s beloved golden prince. 

“He is returned to us,” Frigga quieted her, “unharmed and cleared of dishonor. He was on Midgard when…” The queen stopped and closed her eyes, gripping Sigyn’s hands so tight she feared they would bruise. 

“What?” Sigyn begged. “What happened?” The queen did not seem to want to continue, but Sigyn insisted. 

“Loki attacked the humans,” Frigga finally revealed, “and his brother.” Sigyn stared at her queen, unwilling to believe.

“No,” she denied. “He would never.”

“Loki was ill, Sigyn,” Frigga explained. “Ever since your suffering began he had fallen into despair. A sickness overtook him.” 

Sigyn shook her head, slowly backing away from the queen, “No.”

Tears had started to stream down the queen’s face as she turned back to her chair, reaching down to retrieve something from the seat. “He fought his brother,” Frigga stammered, bringing forth something from the chair. Sigyn nearly fell to the ground when she saw it. 

Gleaming golden horns, arching and swooping from a shining helm, and a thick green cloak, dark and soft and smooth. The pain in her chest howled and burned as she stumbled against a chair. With each step Frigga brought the helmet closer and Sigyn’s mind could not comprehend it. No, it couldn’t be true. Not Loki. Not her Loki. Finally, Frigga slipped the golden helm into Sigyn’s shaking hands, the cool metal feeling empty and hallow. 

“He fell,” the queen’s voice was barely a whisper, but was filled with enough heart wrenching agony to shatter Sigyn’s sanity. She couldn’t take it and Sigyn fled. If the queen had called out to her, Sigyn did not hear. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear as her bare feet flew across the palace halls, tearing out the great gates and racing down the city streets. The sky seemed darker, the towers less glorious, the Bifrost a piercing reminder as she sprinted toward the edge. Heimdall was there, standing at the sight of his post, and he gave her only a sidelong glance as she tore past him. Up ahead, the Bifrost ended in cracks and ragged shards, but Sigyn didn’t care. Her legs buckled and shook beneath her as she stumbled to a halt at the end of her world. 

The stars still shone, the galaxies still swirled, the nine realms still spun on, but it all seemed so bleak, so pointless as she sucked down desperate breath. Loki. She slammed her eyes shut, the tears pouring down her cheeks. Not her Loki. Finally, her legs gave way and Sigyn fell to the Bifrost, knees slamming into cold ground as she sobbed. She wanted to cry out for him, shout his name into the abyss, beg and plead that he come back to her, but she could not find the words. Her voice had failed her, failed to encompass the cruelty and searing pain. 

Instead, she could only scream, the agonizing howl echoing into the night sky, rippling through the golden towers and glittering spires of Asgard’s streets until it found Odin, Frigga, and Thor, and vanished into endless void. 

It was true. 

 

The nightmares were real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I praise the glorious minds of the Thor Universe creators for giving birth to such fantastic characters with which I am able to indulge my creative desires. I claim no ownership and give all credit to the glorious minds of Marvel: Stan Lee, Jack Kirby, and Larry Lieber.


	19. To Be Continued...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This part of the story is over, but there is - of course - more to come. This first section focused on the events surrounding Marvel's first Thor Universe film, "Thor" (2011). The next section will continue along this timeline. Please see my list of works for the first chapter of Dreams and Nightmares: Part Two.

I'll throw my voice into the stars and maybe the echo of my words will be written for you in the clouds by sunrise. All I am trying to say is: I will love you through the darkness. 

\- Christopher Poindexter


	21. Check Out My New Book - The Elements: Descension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELP ME ACHIEVE MY DREAM:
> 
> The Nerdist has partnered with Inkshares for a massive publishing contest. At the end of September, the top 5 pre-ordered books will receive publishing contracts. My book is now in the running.
> 
> So, please: Follow the link below to support my book. $10 will get you a first edition copy and send me closer to the top 5. As a side note: If I don’t make the top 5, you won’t be charged. Plus, pre-order or not, you can still read my book cover to cover! You got a taste above. Feel free to leave notes, critiques, or comments.
> 
> PLEASE, spread the word. Tell your friends, your coworkers, your classmates, your family, that guy at the gym, the barista down the street, and anyone else who will listen. Share this post or the link below on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.
> 
> THE DEADLINE IS SEPTEMBER 30.
> 
> Read the first installment of The Elements Trilogy in its entirety at https://www.inkshares.com/projects/the-elements-descension . 
> 
> Below is just a taste...

“What do you know about war?” he imparted. “Have you ever been on the front lines, princess? Have you ever cut open a demon and watched it writhe and burn in the sun, had its stinking guts spew all over you?”

Her knuckles met his chest with a resounding crack and Aedyn felt the air rush from his lungs. The neck of his tunic was clenched in her fist as she pulled him forward, forcing him to meet her face to face. 

“What do I know?” she snarled, her eyes fading to darkness, lightning crackling inside them. A shiver raced down his spine. “I hear that Highan is so proud of its five princes,” she hissed, her grip tightening around his neck, “Its five glorious princes, its five blessed princes, but not five thousand princes could save you from the terror my people have seen beyond the horizon.” He watched as her eyes sparked, that same charge surging through the air around them and making the leaves to stand stiff and quiver. “It is a holocaust so terrifying, so horrific, that your people will gouge out their ears to keep from hearing their own screams.”

The trees grew silent and even the birds refused to break the void. His hand was wrapped around her wrist now, tightening with each passing moment, and he felt as the icy cold crept down her fingers into his palm. It stung with an unnatural burning and made him want to run to the nearest hearth and throw himself into the flames. 

Embers inside his chest swelled into being, erupting into his lungs and throat and setting his bones on fire. Concentrating the heat in his palm, Aedyn relished as his fist began to glow a familiar orange. Aleaneo immediately recoiled, releasing his neck and snatching her wrist from his grasp, staring in horror at the red burns dissipating on her skin. 

Just as before, Aleaneo disappeared into the woods, but this time Aedyn lost her completely. He hadn’t even seen her turn to leave. It was as if she had simply melted into the air.


	22. Check Out My New Book - The Elements: Descension

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HELP ME ACHIEVE MY DREAM:
> 
> The Nerdist has partnered with Inkshares for a massive publishing contest. At the end of September, the top 5 pre-ordered books will receive publishing contracts. My book is now in the running.
> 
> So, please: Follow the link below to support my book. $10 will get you a first edition copy and send me closer to the top 5. As a side note: If I don’t make the top 5, you won’t be charged. Plus, pre-order or not, you can still read my book cover to cover! You got a taste above. Feel free to leave notes, critiques, or comments.
> 
> PLEASE, spread the word. Tell your friends, your coworkers, your classmates, your family, that guy at the gym, the barista down the street, and anyone else who will listen. Share this post or the link below on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr.
> 
> THE DEADLINE IS SEPTEMBER 30.
> 
> Read the first installment of The Elements Trilogy in its entirety at https://www.inkshares.com/projects/the-elements-descension .
> 
> Below is just a taste...

“What do you know about war?” he imparted. “Have you ever been on the front lines, princess? Have you ever cut open a demon and watched it writhe and burn in the sun, had its stinking guts spew all over you?”

Her knuckles met his chest with a resounding crack and Aedyn felt the air rush from his lungs. The neck of his tunic was clenched in her fist as she pulled him forward, forcing him to meet her face to face.

“What do I know?” she snarled, her eyes fading to darkness, lightning crackling inside them. A shiver raced down his spine. “I hear that Highan is so proud of its five princes,” she hissed, her grip tightening around his neck, “Its five glorious princes, its five blessed princes, but not five thousand princes could save you from the terror my people have seen beyond the horizon.” He watched as her eyes sparked, that same charge surging through the air around them and making the leaves to stand stiff and quiver. “It is a holocaust so terrifying, so horrific, that your people will gouge out their ears to keep from hearing their own screams.”

The trees grew silent and even the birds refused to break the void. His hand was wrapped around her wrist now, tightening with each passing moment, and he felt as the icy cold crept down her fingers into his palm. It stung with an unnatural burning and made him want to run to the nearest hearth and throw himself into the flames.

Embers inside his chest swelled into being, erupting into his lungs and throat and setting his bones on fire. Concentrating the heat in his palm, Aedyn relished as his fist began to glow a familiar orange. Aleaneo immediately recoiled, releasing his neck and snatching her wrist from his grasp, staring in horror at the red burns dissipating on her skin.

Just as before, Aleaneo disappeared into the woods, but this time Aedyn lost her completely. He hadn’t even seen her turn to leave. It was as if she had simply melted into the air.


End file.
